This was written in response to Pic for 1,000, an annual Live Journal challenge, where writers are given a picture prompt and asked to write exactly 1,000 words in response. This is the picture I was assigned. And this is what I came up with. Hats off to PR Zed and Callisto for generous ego stroking and superb beta work.

Slash, Rated NC-17, mostly for sexual content.

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Bodie goggled with dismay at the spreading mess near his feet.  "Shit!"

"Don't be a child," Doyle chided, bum propped against the back of a sun-bleached bench, arms folded over his t-shirted chest.

"'m not," Bodie argued, eyes lifted and glaring now at a towheaded lad who was scurrying away from the scene with all due haste, the boy tossing a single fretful glance over his narrow shoulder to assure himself he wasn't being followed.

"'Course not.  What was I thinking?" Doyle asked the air around him.  "Your protruding lower lip just screams adult male."

Bodie aimed his scowl—and his pout—in his partner's direction.  "I'll make you scream in a minute."

"Promises, promises," Doyle murmured with his best provocative smile.  Pushing away from his resting place, he set off once more down the footpath, not even waiting to see if Bodie followed.  "Come on, then.  I don't want to be the one to tell Cowley we muffed an assignment because of your sweet tooth."

As Doyle had known he would, Bodie trotted to catch up.  But not before sighing, deep and gusty. 

"I'd a craving for ice cream," Bodie explained as he drew alongside Doyle.  Together, they wound through Hyde Park's dense weekend crowd.  "It's my favourite.  That little blighter is lucky I didn't drop him on his ear, making me drop my 99."

"Right," Doyle said from behind his sunglasses, shooting Bodie a sideways glance.  "You had a craving.  The same way you had one for a bacon butty, a bag of crisps, a packet of Hob Nobs..."

"I'm bored, Ray," Bodie complained, his voice thick with disgruntlement, his bottom lip beginning to inch forward again, seemingly without conscious thought on the part of the man it was attached to.  "We've done nothing but circle the Serpentine, dodging bicyclists and horse shit for four bloody days."

Doyle shrugged, as fed up as his partner, yet unwilling to admit it.  Keeping quiet gave him the upper hand.  A good thing to have where Bodie was concerned.  "It was always a risk.  We knew the meet might not take place here.  Our source said 'a London park, the week of the 14th.'  Could be anywhere, couldn't it?  At any time.  It's no wonder Cowley pulled in every available man from every available branch.  Never seen him so willing to cooperate with MI6 before."

"Well, with Whitehall's precious microfilm gone missing, you can hardly blame him," Bodie said, sidestepping a young woman pushing a pram as if it were a plough.  "Wish we'd been given Regent Park, though.  At least then we'd have the zoo to keep us entertained."

"If the old man keeps his word and we actually get to see the inside of our flats tonight, you can call round my place," Doyle said, trying to keep his voice casual, as if it didn't matter one way or another, yet knowing Bodie would see right through him regardless.  "With the hours we've been keeping, I can't promise how well stocked the cupboard is, but I'm fairly certain I can keep you entertained." 

Bodie's expression changed.  With nothing more than a lift of his brow and the faintest of smiles, he went from sulking adolescent to a man on top of the world.

"I wouldn't worry about feeding me, sunshine.  I'm sure I'll find something I can eat."

Cowley set them loose at ten.  They were climbing the steps to Doyle's flat at twenty past.  Neither man had suggested takeout or stopping for beer.  Despite their conversation earlier in the day, food and drink were the last things on their minds.

Bodie had Doyle's t-shirt peeled off him and the button of his jeans popped free before they had even reached Doyle's bedroom.  Stumbling across the threshold there, Doyle took up the gauntlet, pulling the jacket from Bodie's broad back, and ripping his belt free from its buckle.  Competitive in this as in all things, their hands tangled, their arms bumped and rubbed as each man struggled to bare the other first. 

Their tussle was heated, punctuated with grunts and the occasional curse.  In the end, Bodie landed at the foot of the bed, his knees spread, his shirt open and missing buttons, yet still hanging defiantly from his shoulders.  Doyle stood captured between the other man's legs, his jeans and underpants pushed down to mid-thigh, his erection jutting hard and ruddy from his centre.

"Got you just where I want you, mate," Bodie murmured, looking up at Doyle from beneath ridiculously long lashes.  His large, calloused hands trailed up from their place at the back of Doyle's legs to cup his behind, goose flesh rising everywhere Bodie touched.

"Now you want to talk?" Doyle said, his voice arch, designed to egg the other man on.

Bodie smiled, slow and sultry.  "No, Raymond.  I want to suck you until you come, then lose myself in your luscious arse."

"All right," Doyle whispered, reaching out to trace the bottom curve of Bodie's lip with his fingertips.  "So do it."

Bodie pressed a lingering kiss to Doyle's palm before bending to his task.  He nuzzled against Doyle's cock at first, as if saying hello, then lapped at it, his tongue soft and warm.  Doyle moaned and slid his hands into Bodie's sleek hair, needing an anchor, something to hold on to as he began to take flight.

"Love the taste of you," Bodie muttered against Doyle's flesh, his mouth skating there, teasing, taunting, his eyes locked on Doyle's face.  "Better than ice cream, it is.  Better than anything."

"Come on, Bodie," Doyle urged, fingers tightening in the other man's hair.  "Do what you promised, what you threatened this afternoon."

"What's that then?" Bodie asked, his lips opening to allow Doyle inside, but only for a hot, wet instant, before Doyle slipped free again.

Doyle shuddered in frustration.  "Make me scream."

"In a minute, Doyle.  In a minute."

It actually took far longer for Doyle to throw back his head and roar.

The End (which is not included in the word count!)

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