Characters beloved creations and copyright of Reginald Hill.

Song words from Sonique’s "Feels So Good"

NC-17 for m/m sex

So Much

by elfin

‘(your love it feels so good) and that’s what takes me high
(higher than I’ve been before) your love it keeps me alive
(thought I should let you know) that your touch it means so much
(when I’m alone at night) it’s you I’m always thinking of’

Peter drove, the stereo belting out Sonique ‘Feels So Good’ at top volume. He wondered what would happen if he got stopped by the police. And the thought brought to mind another musing; Dalziel in uniform. He must have worn one once, Peter reasoned, but the image was just too bizarre. Not that the Fat Controller didn’t always look smartly dressed. Expensive suits that made him, Peter, feel like he’d been shopping at C&A. Hair neatly combed, eyes shining be it with anger or pleasure, he was always so passionate.

His boss’ passion was one of the things that had kept Peter at Andy’s side for all these years. Whatever else he could say about working for Dalziel, he’d never been bored. And when he thought back he knew he’d been given time to sort out his various personal crises. Finding out the true fate of his grandfather, discovering Ellie was falling for a charming young miner who’d then tried to kill her husband, their separation….

He wasn’t going to think about that now. He’d had a bad day. There hadn’t been one single terrible occurrence that had set him off, just lots of small things that had finally pushed him to breaking point. He’d collected together his coat and car keys, ignored the telephone and slammed his office door hard enough to cause the glass to tremble in the frame. Hard enough to bring Wieldy out into the corridor. He hadn’t said a word, and when Peter had stated he was going home, the sergeant just nodded.

Wieldy’d likely be off soon anyway, off back to Enscombe where he shared the aptly named Corpse Cottage – apt because local rumour had it that a coffin had once fallen through the wall - with his partner Edwin. When he’d first found out about his colleague’s sexual preferences he had to admit he could have reacted better. He’d been surprised was all, whereas Dalziel… how did the man always manage to know what was going to happen before it happened? Or was Andy really more sensitive than him to matters of the heart?

The thought of Dalziel led him full circle to his original musings of what his boss would have looked like in uniform. And then he wondered why the hell he’d gone back there again, twice in ten minutes. Something had been said, a couple of nights ago at the Black Bull. Novello, Wieldy, Dalziel and himself had gone there from the office after closing a case to everyone’s satisfaction. The three men had all been driving and thus had stopped after two pints. But Ivor had decided she was going to take a taxi home and after a couple of G and Ts she was chatting away to them without her usual reserve.

At one point in the evening, Wieldy had gone to the bar and Andy to the gents (it might have been the other way around but he doubted it). Novello leaned into him and whispered to him, "They’d make a great couple, don’t you think?"

"Who?" he’d asked in all innocence.

"Wieldy and the boss," she’d replied.

What he’d expected to feel was amusement, hilarity even. But what he actually felt was a sudden pang of something not alien to him. He was momentarily jealous that someone else other than him should be linked with Andy on such an intimate basis. That Wieldy wouldn’t have shown the slightest interest didn’t seem to figure in his feelings. Then, Wieldy had come back with the drinks and made some obscene crack about the barman and Peter’s initial reaction to Ivor’s statement had been lost.

Now though, as he drove through the evening traffic, he remembered how hurt he’d been, just for a moment. He’d often heard Dalziel refer to him as "my lad". He preferred "Sunbeam" because it made him feel special. Recently Andy had been saving that particular familiarity for him and he allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that it was because he meant it, not because he’d just not caught Andy using it to anyone else.

He pulled the car to a halt at the traffic lights and watched the traffic cross in front of his car. He hadn’t come very far out of town, he realised. Andy’s place was close by. His own body’s reaction to the thought took him by surprise. ‘Can’t blame it mind,’ he thought to himself. He hadn’t exactly been getting much recently. For a long time he and Ellie had shared the same bed but barely even touched. And for the last three weeks he’d been sleeping in the spare room. Not conducive to a healthy sex life.

He shook himself as the lights turned green and he signalled left before turning. What the hell had brought that on? ‘You know full well.’ There had appeared, it seemed, a little devil on his shoulder. ‘Ever since you started working with him you’ve thought about it, in your darkest moments.’ He wondered where the angel was that was supposed to fight his side of the battle on these occasions. ‘So many hints, so many lines you’ve picked up on. ‘You told my lovely sergeant here….’, ‘would you mind not talking to your dogsey when I’m staring at you….’, ‘a smooth-talking graduate copper….’’

He pulled his car up outside Andy’s house and killed the engine. The drive here had been as effective on his body’s state as a bumpy train journey. The music he’d played in a loop had only upped his mood a notch. Some abstract voice inside him was telling him that it was time to see if Dalziel would make good on his innuendoes, or whether he really was just all mouth and no trousers. The image wasn’t a bad one at all.

Andy dragged himself to his front door and unlocked it, leaning heavily on the latch. He hadn’t been expecting guests and was making friends with his newly opened bottle of Highland Park when there had come an insistent knocking on the door. Peering out of the curtains he’d seen Peter’s car there and sworn to himself. He didn’t need another pointless burglary, or a vicious death. Tonight he wanted to enjoy the finer things in life. Whiskey, rugby and the pleasures he could find in his own hand.

This afternoon Marj had finally given him the brush-off. They’d been playing with one another for nigh on a month, but Andy’d long ago suspected he was the more serious of the two of them. They’d had a couple of memorable afternoons, one or two evenings. But he really hadn’t been the stable relationship she’d been looking for and when he’d done his own soul-searching he’d been forced to admit to himself that she wasn’t what he really wanted either. He swung the door open and looked moodily at his inspector. "What is it, Peter?"

Resolve flitted away like sand in the wind. He might as well have been standing naked on his boss’ doorstep for all the force he could muster. He opened his mouth but the words – whatever words might once have been waiting there – didn’t come. "Sorry… I shouldn’t…." He turned away, determining that he would go back to his car and drive home to a cold sandwich and the spare bed.

But Andy, who’d by now worked out that it wasn’t business visit, was more than happy to have company. "Don’t be daft, come in." He let the door fall open and wondered back through into the lounge, leaving his inspector to close it behind him.

‘All’s as it should be,’ a quiet voice within him soothed. The angel putting in a late appearance, Peter thought to himself sarcastically. ‘Just another visit to the house,’ he retorted in a silent, nasty tone.

Andy had flopped back down onto the sofa, and Peter flopped next to him, holding his hand out to accept the crystal tumbler that was offered. Holding it steady while Andy filled it, he let his eyes be drawn to the match playing out on the television. Dalziel refilled his own glass and put the bottle down on to the table.

"Thought you’d come over to demand my presence at some unwelcoming crime scene," Andy admitted after a few minutes.

"I don’t know why I came over. I’ve had the worst day and the thought of home…." He caught himself. But the news obviously wasn’t unexpected.

"Not going so well is it, Sunbeam?"
Something chalked a point up on an invisible board in his mind. "Not at the moment. Just a temporary glitch I’m sure."

Andy sipped his whiskey. "Never really gotten over Farr has she?"

He should have been angry enough to strike. He would have been a year back. But not any longer. He kept quiet for a while until he decided he didn’t have to answer the question but could ask one of his own. "What happened with Marj this afternoon?"

"What I thought would happen. She gave me the elbow."

"Sorry."

"What on earth for? Not your fault. Besides, I weren’t for her and she weren’t for me."

Peter tore his eyes from the televised game. Basking in being un-politically correct for a moment, he imagined it would be something Wieldy’d enjoy, watching all those men rolling around in the mud together. Letting his head loll to one side he studied Andy’s profile. He wasn’t good-looking, in anyone’s books, but he had something. Or maybe it was more that Peter knew he was cared for by this man, knew he was – in a way – loved. A few seconds and Andy dropped his own head to one side, gaze meeting Peter’s.

‘He’s beautiful.’ Andy allowed himself the luxury of admiring his student. ‘Always has been, though, hasn’t he? Blue eyes, blond hair. The laddish features that endeare him to women and men alike. Sensual and loyal if he put his mind to it. Completely balmy at times, of course, but then… aren’t we all?’

Peter drank down the remainder of his whiskey and reached his hand around Andy’s neck. Leaning forward, coaxing his friend toward him, he kissed the mouth as it opened to say something. In place of the expected squawk of denial, Peter found himself swallowing a groan from Andy’s throat. Andy’s tongue was grazing along the top of his own, stroking in long, wet, lavish strokes. Peter concentrated on sensation, taste, everything that was different and all that was familiar.

It was deep and long, yet when Andy pulled back Peter looked away. The older man swallowed the alcohol left in his glass and dropped the tumbler to the floor carefully. "Peter, don’t go all shy on me now, lad." The tone of his voice was what made Pascoe look up. And then the careful hand on his arm. "Just tell me why."

"I have no idea."

Andy smiled. "Good enough for me."

He shifted slightly, leaning over Peter a little as he kissed his inspector again. He let his hand slide down Peter’s arm until it came to his elbow. Then he dropped it to rest on the other man’s hip.

Unexpected as it was, this was far from unwelcome. The love he felt for Peter didn’t stop at any level but had deepened until he was lost. He’d had lived happily ever after with this man at his side as his protégé, as a friend of the family. But now this was being offered to him he wasn’t going to turn it down. He moved his hand again, down over Peter’s stomach, down to his thigh. The thin suit trousers he wore hid nothing; Dalziel felt the straining erection against his wrist as he stroked over Peter’s strong leg.

Acutely aware of Andy’s exploring, Peter spread his legs a little. Tiny inner voices called him names but he took no heed of them. After all, this was what he’d come here for, wasn’t it? Strong fingers were squeezing his thighs, moving up to cup his clothed genitals. He moaned into Andy’s mouth, assuring himself that he wasn’t begging for this, just appreciating the skilled touch that was now stroking the length of his restrained cock. Peter lifted his hips and Andy couldn’t help the chuckle into the other’s mouth.

Peter pulled back, sinking his head into the cushions of the sofa. "What?" he asked defensively.

Andy regarded him with nothing short of adoration. "Nothing, Petal. Just wondering how come you’re so desperate for me, and when I’ll wake up."

It was a romantic notion coming from someone like Dalziel. He started to feel ashamed. "I’m not using you," he reassured Andy somewhat belatedly. "I just…."

But Andy lifted his hand from Peter’s crouch and touched two large fingers to his friend’s lips. "Don’t. I don’t care. I want ya."

Relief must have softened his expression because a moment later Peter’s mouth was taken again and that hand was back where he wanted it.

For someone who’d never done this to another before, Dalziel’s touch was deceptively certain. He took the zip between his fingertips and drew it down over the pronounced bulge. With more courage than he felt he had the right to possess, Andy pushed the button through its hole and opened Peter’s trousers. Peter let loose a low, resounding murmur, unintelligible yet easily understood by his lover.

Finding the opening in the front of the other’s boxers, Andy touched hidden flesh for the first time this night, the silk of Peter’s erection brushing his fingers, creased skin where the base of his cock met his testicles.

Peter’s hand was doing its own exploring now, urged on by the exquisite sensations of Andy’s touch. A tight palm had encased his erection and was stroking him in long, experimental waves. Between shocks of pleasure he managed to get Andy’s jeans open, thrusting his hand inside in an almost desperate need to return the sensations.

When he got a hold of Andy’s cock and squeezed it firmly, he was rewarded by a groan, low and long. Dalziel broke the kiss, expression heated now, one of distinct longing. He looked at Peter for a long time, daring the other to break the visual hold. And then he did it himself. Putting one hand to Peter’s shoulder, he pushed him back into the corner of the sofa, extracting that wondrous hand from his own jeans, leaving his cock straining for the contact it had lost. But he ignored his own body’s yearning and leaned down, registering Pascoe’s wide-eyed look of surprise moments before he moaned with need and his body sank into the deep cushions.

Andy took Peter’s cock into his mouth, letting it go full length, its tip pressing against the back of his throat. He’d had women do this to him and it only took a little angling to make it comfortable. It was worth it. Peter’s fingers were tangling in his fine hair as much as they could. He was trying not to push up into Andy’s mouth, trying to restrain his own natural reaction. So Andy closed his mouth and sucked. Peter screamed, somewhere between ‘fuck me’ and ‘ahhhhh’. Pleased, Dalziel released the pressure for a moment, licking around the base of his lover’s cock before sinking down a second time and sucking harder.

Peter tried to pull Andy’s head from his groin, unable to form enough of a coherent sentence to warn him of the impending explosion. But Andy only repeated the sequence. Peter came hard. He bucked once into Andy’s mouth, his head falling back as pulled in his breath in gasps. He flooded Andy’s mouth, feeling through the haze of ecstasy the other man swallowing on him, throat muscles contracting, milking him deliciously. He cried out again, unable to do anything but ride out the almost violent waves assaulting him. And at that precious moment his imagination offered up a series of brief yet tantalising possibilities.

He cleared his mind with some effort and tried to sit up. But Andy’s hand was resting on his stomach, holding him gently but effectively in place. "Don’t tell me we shouldn’t have."

Peter looked at his boss in amazement. "I was going to say no such thing. I was actually about to return the favour."

*

During the night the real world seemed a million miles away. When the sun came up, Peter got into his car and drove home to shower and change. Ellie might ask where he’d been and he’d tell the truth. He’d been at Dalziel’s. They’d had a late night and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her or Rosie by coming in during the morning’s wee hours.

The day was at least better than yesterday, at best an awakening to himself and his own feelings. He sat behind his desk for most of the morning, pretending to fill in paperwork and instead examining his actions of the previous night in tiny detail with the heading ‘Why?’

Around two pm, Dalziel put his head around Peter’s door and said in his usual tone, "Right, you, with me. Wetherton’s finest are needed."

It wasn’t until they reached Andy’s house that Peter realised exactly what Wetherton’s finest were needed for.

fin

elfin

02/10/00

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