Title:                        Wishes
Author pseudonym:             Panda
Rating:                       NC-17
Pairing:                      Skase / Boulton
Status:                       Complete
Disclaimers:                  Characters mentioned belong to Thames
                              Television / Pearson.

=======
WISHES
=======

I wish I was elsewhere.

Elsewhere than in this modern, ugly motel room in this modern,
ugly city.  Elsewhere than in this  uncomfortable bed with its
cheap feeling sheets.  Actually, if I could sleep I wouldn’t
care where I was.

But I can’t.

Not only is this bed uncomfortable but it is also too short
for me and my feet hang over the edge if I lie straight.  I
sigh loudly as I throw myself around in the bed yet again,
this time managing to untuck the bottom sheet.

That is it!

I’ve had enough.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed I sit up and run my
fingers through my hair.  Now what?  I get off the bed and
stretch.  My body enjoying the freedom of not being restricted
to the confined space the bed offered.  I contemplate going
for a walk outside for the whole five seconds it takes me to
walk across the room and open the curtains onto the rain
slicked streets.  Maybe not then.

I feel as though I am going to go stir crazy stuck in this
little room and start to pace the length of it.  Back and
forth I go.  Wishing I was home.  Wishing I was anywhere but
here.  Even an all night obbo stuck in a car with George
Garfield would be preferable to this.

I continue to pace as my mind begins to go over the days
events.

John Boulton and I had come here to follow a lead on a gang of
car ringers that had been targeting Sun Hill.  The gang
favoured top of the range motors like BMWs and Mercedes and a
number of the stolen cars had been spotted here in the last
couple of days.  We hadn’t had much joy chasing the leads but
through more bad luck than anything else had found ourselves
getting involved in a hold up in a corner shop.  As could be
expected, the suspects were none too happy with our
interruption and there was a scuffle which resulted in one of
the toe-rags getting away.  This pissed John off, but what
could I do?  I’d almost had him when I noticed his mate really
laying into John.  I had to intervene, and besides, it was
easier to get that one’s arms behind his back and on the
ground than it would have been the one I was close to.

Once the suspect was cuffed I went over to John and offered to
help him up but he refused my help.  Fine, stuff him, I
thought at the time, his fault for attempting to take on the
bigger of the two scrotes.  What did he expect?

Actually, I know what he expected.

He expected to get the guy and wouldn’t have contemplated for
a moment that he would end up with not only bruised ribs but
with a bruised ego as well.

I don’t realise that I am so lost in thought about the day
until I somehow stray from the path I’m pacing and trip over
my shoe.  Fortunately I manage to stay reasonably in control
and crash down onto the bed as opposed to the floor.

Now I’m *really* awake and aware that there is no chance of me
falling asleep for a good two hours and decide that I have to
find something to do.  A quick flick through the television
channels with the remote control annihilates my first idea.  I
have nothing to read because I left my magazine on the train
and the Bible just doesn’t do it for me.  Not even when I am
this bored.

I’m getting so desperate that I begin to wonder if John might
have something that I can read.  Or if he’ll let me borrow the
lap-top and I can play solitaire.  Or… or, bugger it…  Even if
he’ll just talk to me.  Complain about the case.  Anything.

Getting off the bed again I kick the offending shoe out of the
way and quickly make my way to the door.  Once there I open it
silently and let out a sigh of relief when I see the thin
strip of light shining under John’s door that signals that he
is still up.

Thank God.  Maybe I’ll be able to survive the night after all.

Turning back into the room I put the light on and locate the
jeans and blue shirt that I’d worn today.  I sniff them
carefully before putting them on and am pleased to find that
they still smell like the Calvin Klein aftershave that I
applied this morning.

I don’t bother with shoes and once I’m dressed, grab the room
key and shutting the door behind me walk the few steps to
John’s room.  It takes a few moments for him to answer my
knock and when he does he looks hardly pleased to see me.

"Rod."

I flash him what I know to be my most disarming smile in an
attempt to counteract his curtness.  I also quickly decide to
avoid the real reason I’m standing here for a minute or two…
For some reason…

"Sarge."  I peer past him and note the eerie glow of the lap-
top monitor on the desk in the corner of the room.  This
probably means that he is working on the report for today’s
hold up.  "Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the
report."

"Yeah.  And pull the other one, Rod.  It plays Jingle Bells.
In Latin."

"Really?  I didn’t know they had Christmas carols back then…"

My ill advised attempt at humour earns me a glare in response.

"Come on, Rod.  What do you want?  I have better things to do
with my time than banter with you."

Somehow I manage to control the urge to ask Mr Married to the
Job what he has better to do and inform him that I can’t sleep
and was wondering if he had something I could read.

John looks at me for a moment and I notice for the first time
how tired he looks.  He then nods and gestures for me to enter
the room.

"I’ve got your magazine.  The one you left on the train.  I’ll
get it for you."

I watch him walk slowly across to his bag and wonder why the
fact that it is obvious that he is sore from the fight
concerns me so much.  I don’t say anything though.  Not even
when he winces as he bends down to open his bag.  Choosing
instead the safe, well travelled path of light heartedness.

"Didn’t know you read "Loaded", Sarge."

"I don’t.  I only picked it up because I knew you’d be looking
for it.  And, Rod, my name is John.  In this shitty little
motel room I’m John.  Not Sarge or DS Boulton or any other
fucking title I may be labelled with."

John sinks onto the bed after this little outburst and stares
at the magazine that he now has clenched in his hands.

Again, I don’t know why this concerns me.

Peculiar.

"Okay Sa… John.  Whatever you say.  I just thought you were
working, that’s all."

"Working?"  He doesn’t look up from the magazine or the floor
or whatever it is that he is staring unseeing at as I move a
little further into the room.  "What makes you think that I
was working?"

"The lap-top.  I thought you using it to write a report of
today’s hold up."

"I was writing to my brother in Australia, not that it’s
really any of your business.  Telling him how wonderful my
life is.  How I’ve never been happier…"

I believe that he was writing to his brother.  I most
definitely do not believe the other things he said.

"Yeah.  Pull the other one, John, it plays Jingle Bells.  In
Ancient Greek."

John finally looks up from the magazine and half smiles at me.
A tired smile that doesn’t reach his tired eyes.

"Well, I was writing to my brother so you can believe that…
Here’s your magazine and I hope that you get some sleep."

He gets off the bed slowly, wanders over to where I am
standing and stretches out his hand with the magazine in it
towards me.

I don’t want to take it from him.

Suddenly I don’t know what I want other than I know that I
don’t want to leave John.  Don’t want to leave him alone to
wallow in whatever the misery is he is wallowing in.

God alone knows why this is the case as I am the first to
admit that I am not exactly the most sensitive of men.  I
sometimes even wonder what I am doing in a job that
occasionally requires levels of sensitivity that I can’t meet.
But something inside me has just *clicked* as I look at John
now.

Perhaps I’m only now seeing him for the first time for who he
is.  A man more or less like me.  Not some invincible Robo-Cop
like he would have us all believe.

I reluctantly take the magazine from his outstretched hand,
casually stroking his wrist and the length of his hand as I do
so.  A nervous gasp escapes John’s lips and he moves as
quickly as his damaged body will allow him to the door and
gestures for me to leave.

I ignore this.  I’ve made up my mind - I don’t want to go.

"You seem sore.  A bit bruised from the fight are you?"

"Such brilliant powers of deduction you have, Rodney.  We’ll
make a DI out of you yet.  Now, will you go?  I’d like to get
some sleep if it’s all the same to you."

John opens the door and I gently shut it.

"No.  Let me take a look at your injuries.  Maybe I can help…"

I move towards him and he backs away angrily.  Into a corner.

"How do you think you can help?  Anyway, I’m fine.  Leave me
alone."

Reaching John, I stand in front of him and effectively block
any escape that he may make.

"Come on.  I won’t hurt you.  If that’s what you are worried
about."

With these words I place my hands on the faded green
windcheater he is wearing and start to lift it up.  I half
expect John to push me away.  I certainly don’t expect him to
all but freeze or for his breathing to increase rapidly.

"Don’t touch me!"  His hands come up and push against my chest
but other than that he doesn’t make any real move to get past
me.  "You don’t want…  You can’t…"

John can’t seem to find what he wants to say and turns his
head towards the wall.

I’m momentarily dumbfounded by this reaction but then
suddenly, out of nowhere, I know what to do.  Using both hands
I gently cup his chin and slowly tilt his head towards mine.
Once I make sure that his tired but defiant gaze meets mine, I
lower my head and kiss him full on the lips.

John’s entire body stiffens at this and his hands that are on
my chest make a futile attempt to push me away.  I don’t let
go though and tell myself that I’ll give it another thirty
seconds before giving up and getting the hell out of his
range.

My thirty seconds are nearly up when I sense a slight change
in John.  The fingers of his hands against my chest start to
clench into my shirt and his mouth opens a fraction.  He isn’t
exactly active in the kiss but nor is he fighting it.

I only pull back when I begin to taste the hot, salty tears
that are slipping silently from under his closed eyelids.

Shit.  The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

"John."  I whisper quietly and release his face in order to
move away so that he can get away.  He doesn’t though.
Instead, without releasing his grip on my shirt, drops his
head onto my shoulder and starts to talk.

"You shouldn’t have done that.  You have no idea what you are
doing or what you may have unleashed…"

I stroke his soft, clean hair and make soothing noises that I
didn’t know were in my vocabulary until now.

"It’s alright John.  We can forget it if you like.  I just…"
I just *what*?  "I just didn’t know that you were…"

And I didn’t.  Not until I kissed him and didn’t find myself
in a crumpled heap on the floor like I would have if he was as
hetero as his image.  Then again, I never notice things like
that.  Too busy staying in the closet myself.

"Didn’t know you were either…"

For a minute I almost imagine that he added, "But I’d hoped…"
after that comment but I can’t be sure.

Thankfully the tears have stopped and his grip on my shirt has
loosened.  I decide not to ask him what the tears were for.
For now at least.

"Come on.  I really do think you need to get some sleep."

I gently detach his hands and move around to his side so that
I can put my arm around him.  He relaxes into me and we start
to walk towards the bed.  As we near it he suddenly wriggles
out from my arm and gets a few paces away before attempting to
glare at me.

"You’re not just doing this so you can have something over me,
are you?  Because if you are then you can fuck off right now.
I don’t need the aggro.  I don’t need you and I certainly
don’t need your pity…"

This outburst seems to exhaust John and reaching the bed he
sits down on it and looks at me.

"Is that what you really think?  Is it?  Because you are so
wrong.  What could I possibly get over you?  I’m in the same
boat remember?  And I don’t want to cause you any aggro.  Nor
do I pity you but for some reason I want you…  If that’s okay
with you?"

I can’t believe I just said all that.  Or that I meant it.
But I did and I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything so much
in my entire life.

"You want me…"

I’m amazed at the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah.  Fuck knows why…"

"Fuck knows why…"  John slowly repeats my words and gets off
the bed and comes over to where I’m standing flat footed.
"Thank you…"  He continues before I have time to ask the
obvious question.  "For… for making me feel desired again…"

Instead of risking the wrong words I close the gap between us
and gently pull John into an embrace.  After a split seconds
hesitation he allows himself to be drawn into it and even puts
his arms around me.  Standing here, clinging to each other I
start to feel as though this is so *right*.  That sub
consciously we have both been waiting for this moment.  That
somehow – unknown until now – we share something special.

It is with this conviction that I slowly move my hands under
John’s windcheater and start to run them up and down his
smooth back.  He responds by looking at me shyly and
instigating a kiss.  I welcome his mouth on mine and kiss him
back happily.  Our tongues entwine and we stand like this for
what seems like ages.  Locked together in shared sensation.

Unfortunately I have to go and ruin it by moving my hands to
John’s sides and accidentally prodding him where the bruising
is.

He tries to pretend that it didn’t hurt but I can tell that it
did and it momentarily spoils the moment.

Reluctantly pulling away from John, I start to take my shirt
off and hope that he gets the hint.  He does and his
windcheater swiftly joins my shirt on the floor.  Our jeans
follow suit and we are soon standing apart clad only in our
boxers.  Now I can see the ugly purple bruise that is about
the size of my hand on his left side and can avoid it.  The
bruise marring an otherwise unblemished sight.  Not an inch of
fat proving that jogging does keep him fit.  His skin pale and
his chest covered in a fine smattering of reddish coloured
hair.

I can’t help but notice the startling contrast between our
skin colours as we gravitate back to each other.  My lightly
tanned skin next to his paleness.  It is as if everything –
our skin, our size, our hair colouring – is conspiring to make
me the stronger one…

Which is something I find to be rather ironic.

We stand wrapped around each other, enjoying the fresh feeling
of skin on skin and resume kissing.  As we kiss I use my hand
to lazily trace patterns on John’s back.  I can’t help but
laugh with him as he squirms before pulling back from me and
sheepishly admitting that he is ticklish.  I file this piece
of information away to be used at a later date…

Taking the opportunity of our separation I begin to put my
mouth to work on the rest of John’s body.  Placing both hands
on his hips I start by kissing a path from his right ear to
his collar bone before lowering my head further and beginning
to lick his nipples.  First one and then the other like a
mother cat washing a kitten, and then back again.

As I continue to repeat this action I become aware of not only
John’s hard cock against by body but also that he is trembling
slightly.  Gradually it dawns on me that he must not have been
touched in a very long time.  This thought saddens me and I
vow to attempt to make up for it.

Without ceasing the attention I’m paying to increasingly
sensitive nipples, I slowly pull his navy blue boxers down.
His cock immediately springs free and once his boxers have
reached below his knees he is able to kick them off.

I now have a new target for my mouth, so finishing with his
nipples, I glide my tongue down his torso, through his navel
and come to a sudden stop when I reach his curly red pubic
hair.  I pause here for a moment and listen to John’s rapid
breathing and enjoy the feeling of his hand running through my
hair before continuing on my merry way.

I blow gently onto his hard member and watch in inane
happiness as it pulsates in front of me.  Flicking my tongue
out I catch a drop of his pre-come and savour the taste of it.
Normally I’d continue to tease my lover before really blowing
him but I can sense that John is already not far from release.

Without further ado I open my mouth and take in the head of
John’s cock.  Running my tongue gently around it for a few
seconds I luxuriate in the sensation.  I then start to glide
my mouth further down his hard shaft and begin to suck.  Once
I’ve got him in my mouth I use one hand to steady myself on
his hip and the other to lightly play with his balls.

Slowly and a little unsurely, John begins to fuck my mouth and
we quickly settle into a gentle rhythm.   It doesn’t take long
for this to push John over the edge and he comes hard into my
mouth with a happy exclamation.  Swallowing his seed I look up
at him and am pleased to see a light in his eyes that wasn’t
there before.

I feel an unabashed sense of pride that I turned that light
on.

"So…  Now what?"  John’s voice sounds a little husky as he
voices this question.  I don’t know what to say so get up off
the floor and hug him again.  He then continues, "You can… you
can fuck me if you want…"

Oh, I want alright…  Very much so.  But not now.  Not with
John being bruised and sore and all that.  One thing at a
time…

I inform him of all this and he nods slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah.  Come on, let’s go to bed before I change my mind."

"But what about you?  Don’t you need a hand or something?"

"Nah.  Not now.  I’m fine…"  And surprisingly, I am.  I don’t
feel the urge to get off at all at this point in time.
Indisputable proof that I am caught up in the emotion of the
moment.  "You may want to ask me that again in the morning
though…"

"Okay…"

I can see that John would still like to do something for me
but he can’t stop himself from yawning and accepts that I am
right.   I know this to be a fact as he goes immediately over
to the bed when I release him from my arms.

I watch John climb under the duvet and note that the side he
chooses is the opposite to the side I sleep on.  This
reinforces my opinion that this is right, predestined even.

Once he is settled I turn off the main light and use the glow
of the lap-top to guide me.  As I pass it I flick it shut and
hope that in the next letter John writes to his brother he
will be able to mean the bit about never being happier…  The
room is now bathed in that half darkness that seems limited to
motel rooms and I walk gingerly to the bed.  Reaching it, I
slip out of my boxers and get under the duvet naked.

Without words we wriggle close together and I place my arms
around John’s compact body.  I carefully avoid the bruising
and we both sigh contentedly once we are comfortable.

I no longer wish I was elsewhere.

~end~