Title: Plan B
Author: Grey
Fandom: Thief Takers
Pairing: Bob/Paul
Rating: NC-17
Status: New/Complete
Archive: Yes
Email: Grey853@aol.com
Series/Sequel: Maybe
Date: November 2000
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Bob discovers there's a catch to using Paul's emotional dependence.

Notes: Based on the episode "Nasty Boys" where it seems pretty obvious that
Bob isn't as straight as he thought he was at the start of the show. For
those who haven't seen the episode, Bob Tate goes undercover as a boyfriend
to Paul Valera, the driver for a gang of thieves. During the assignment, Bob
grows to care for the man he only wanted to use to make the case. Thanks to
Debbie for the tape and inspiration.

Warnings: None.

Plan B

by Grey



Cheeky bastard.

Bob remembered the wild beat, the rhythmic pounding as Paul danced with the
stranger, the younger man's eyes glassy from too much drink. Sweat trickled
down Bob's thighs, his randy cock straining the jeans in frustration. He
watched from the bar as his target grabbed the boy's face and kissed him, all
the while staring in his direction, taunting him, daring him to act.

And he did. The unexpected anger raged through him as he rushed into the
crowd, pulling Paul from the dance floor. He wanted to slap the bitch, to
let him know who played the better mind games, but restrained himself. Plan
B didn't include the jealous lover routine in public, at least not yet.

Paul's accusatory words played over in his mind. Lies and secrets layered
their lives, keeping a wall between them. Paul still believed the bullocks
about his sister for christsakes. Bob's gut knotted at the dread of truth,
the pinpoint in time when Paul might find out what a heartless sod he really
was.

Wiping his face with a tired hand, Bob refocused on the present and scanned
the dark stretch of road ahead. "Where are we? Your place is in the other
direction."

"I know." After a slight pause, Paul's soft voice added, "I needed to drive
around a bit."

Glancing over, Bob took in the exhausted features, the skin even more pale in
the eerie glow from the dash. "You okay?"

"I'm about to grass my best mate so he can spend the rest of his bloody life
in prison. I feel like a fucking Judas."

"Feeling sorry for yourself then?"

Frowning, Paul took a sharp turn and increased his speed. "Sod off."

"Turn the car around and let's go home."

"It's early yet."

"It's after midnight."

"Got curfew?"

"Just turn the bloody car around, Paul. I don't have time for any more of
your stupid games."

Paul smirked. "Still going on about the wee kiss? Got you going, did it?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

Without warning, Paul pulled off the road, the engine still racing as his
hands gripped the wheel. "I can't do this. You can't ask me to do this.
I've known Chris my whole life."

Bob touched his shoulder gently, keeping the words low and patient. Brittle
could break. "Steady on, mate. You have to."

"I can't."

"You want your dad to die alone?"

"Bastard." The word hissed out between clenched teeth, loaded with contempt
and loathing.

Bob pulled back, pride stung, his spine straight. "I'm not the one pouring
petrol on people, am I? That's your mate Chris. Nice bloke, that is."

"You don't know him."

"Lucky me."

Paul remained quiet before he finally spoke in a hush. "At school he was the
only one between me and dying."

"Don't be so fucking melodramatic."

"You don't know what it's like to be the boy at the end of everyone's boot.
Chris kept me safe."

"Days gone, Paul. Things change. Now, turn the car around and let's go
home. We've both had a long day and tomorrow will be a lot longer."

Without answering, keeping his eyes trained on the road, Paul maneuvered the
turn. Heading back toward town, he remained silent, his face tight and lips
thin.

Reaching the younger man's flat, he parked and they both got out to stand
awkwardly in front of the building. "Come in for a bit."

Uneasy, Bob shook his head. "I can't. I need to get back and call in."

Stepping in close, his open hand on Bob's chest, Paul whispered, "Don't look
around, but they're watching. You don't come in, they'll want to know why."

Fuck.

Eyes narrowed, Bob studied the face for a clue, some flicker of deceit, but
found nothing but concern. "You sure?"

"Trust me. I know how it works. Chris might've vouched for you, but you're
not in yet. Come inside and I'll fix us a drink. They won't stay out here
all night."

"And if they do?"

Paul hooked the back of his neck, pulling his face closer. "Then sleep
over."

Playing to the surveillance, Bob hugged him briefly and then nudged the
slender body towards the stairs. "Enough floorshow for the night, mate.
Inside."

"Don't be shy."

"Shut it." Frustrated and tired, Bob followed Paul into his flat, fuming as
the younger man locked the door and fetched a deep whiskey for them both. He
sipped the amber liquid, the fire burning his throat, the heat spreading
through his belly like velvety fingers. His muscles relaxed and he savored
the tease and whisper as alcohol buffered his troubled nerves. After a few
more minutes, he slumped onto the sofa and finished it off before holding out
the glass. "Another."

"You driving home?"

"You're not my mum. Besides, have to make it look good, eh? I figure an
hour should be enough."

"No sleep over then?"

"Greedy sod."

"Lonely more like." Bob glanced up into the cheerless face, the pleading
blue eyes staring back as Paul handed him another full drink with a shaky
hand. "I don't think I can do this. Too much to think about. Too many
chances to change my mind. I could pick up the phone and call Chris anytime.
Tonight's too fucking long to be alone. Don't leave."

Lightning flashed as Bob finally understood the play. Brilliant copper he
was. "No one's watching downstairs."

"I just wanted you to stay."

"You lied."

"How's it feel then?"

Bob took a deep breath before he tasted more whiskey, the fuzzy edges of his
thoughts less frantic, less ready to run wild inside his head. He set the
empty glass down and then rubbed his face with one hand. "I sleep out here."

"But the bed's a double."

"You never give up."

"If that were true, I'd have told you and your guv to bugger off." Paul sat
down beside him, the cushion sagging. "As it is, I just need you to keep me
from jumping off the roof for the night."

Suddenly angry, Bob snapped, "Don't talk like that."

Confused, Paul met his gaze. "What do you care? Think it might spoil your
plan?"

"It's not about that." The heat of Paul's body pushed against him as the
younger man palmed his chest. Grabbing the nervous hand in his own, he held
it still over his heart. "This will be done soon. You'll be free of that
lot."

Shaking his head, Paul frowned. "My dad's dying and I'm betraying my only
friend. What's free about that?"

The truthful words whittled away his will power and Bob closed his eyes, his
cock awake again, Paul's needy voice calling. "You'll be free of me, too,
soon."

A gentle finger traced his ear lovingly, the tender touch firing his gut. "I
don't want that. You?"

Without thinking, Bob turned and cupped the back of Paul's head, pulling him
close, his lips capturing the younger man's mouth. The slight gasp puffed
the air, the whiskey smooth on his lover's tongue. Parting slightly, Bob
whispered, "Where's the bloody bed then?"

Paul paused, but smiled and stood up, tugging him to his feet. Body
sluggish, Bob followed, his brain dizzy with too much whiskey and want. In
the bedroom, Paul stripped off quickly, his clothes piled on a chair as he
crawled into the bed naked, the white sheets already pulled back. In the low
light he lay on his side against the stack of pillows, one leg up as he
smoothed the bed beside him. He wet his lips before he whispered, "Let me
see you."

Near paralyzed, Bob stood still, his breathing weighted with doubt. Finally,
hands fumbled to unzip tight jeans and awkward feet toed off his shoes before
he peeled off his T-shirt and briefs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his
head spun with the reality of his decision. A warm hand stroked his bare
back and shoulder, the soothing touch sending electric sizzles down his
spine. Lying back, he swallowed hard as the other man pressed his whole body
over him, their ragged breathing loud in his ears. An eager tongue licked
his chin and then a mouth latched onto his, the slick heat overwhelming. His
own desire rocked him as he bucked up, his cock rubbing against Paul's belly,
his own gut fired up and tingling. Desire rumbled up through him, his need
growing with each thrust. Pulling away briefly, his lungs struggling to keep
up, he hissed, "Roll over."

Without hesitation, Paul complied, raising his hips and ass up as he gasped,
"I have condoms in the side drawer."

"Right."

Paul writhed as Bob massaged his ass cheeks, wetting his finger with spit
before fingering his hole. The soft moans spurred Bob to smile before he
reached for what he needed. Opening the package quickly, he rolled the
condom on. He squirted some lubricant into his palm and stroked himself a
few times before kneeling into position between the spread legs. Using one
hand to steady Paul's hips, he used the other to finger fuck the slick hole a
few more times, his lover's whimpers and musky scent making him even more
hard. Holding the base of his cock, he eased into the puckered ring and gasp
at the tightness, each gentle thrust taking him deeper. Closing his eyes, he
leaned over Paul's back as he settled completely inside, his balls swollen,
throbbing with a wonderful ache.

How many times had women refused him this pleasure? Paul gave it freely and
he took it. Jesus. So fucking tight, so fucking good.

An urgent shove against his crotch came with a plea. "Please. Don't stop."

"Like I bloody well could." Without anymore words, Bob began his rhythm, the
thrusts slow and even, going deep, all the way in and then out again.
Sometimes grinding and sometimes rotating against Paul's ass, he prolonged
his control. The winding build of pressure through his belly waved along his
brain and back again, the urgency gaining power as he picked up force and
speed. He rammed in as Paul shuddered and jerked in his arms, his own coming
magnified as he held the man even tighter. White light flashed behinds
squeezed lids and the release filled him as he bucked that last time, his
cock exploding pure pleasure to every cell, the meaning of life distilled
down to a matter of a few perfect seconds.

Labored breathing and satisfaction kept him tame as Bob withdrew and rolled
to the side to clean off. He remained quiet as Paul did the same before
turning to snuggle in, his lover's forehead resting on his sweaty chest.
Pulling up the sheets to cover them both, Bob relaxed and relished the
stillness. Fingering the soft blond hair, he closed his eyes, drifting, his
body sated and pleased.

A whisper wrecked his whole night. "I love you."

Fuck.

"You don't mean that, Paul. You don't know me."

"I know enough. You're a bastard and a copper, but it doesn't matter."
Sighing, Bob tried to sit up only to have Paul hold him still, the strength
of the smaller man surprising. "Don't pull away. Please. I know you don't
love me back. I just needed to say it. I'm tired of lies."

Surrendering, Bob shook his head in weary dismay and settled back down
against the pillows. "You're a fool then."

"Yeah, probably."

Frowning, Bob ran his hand over the smooth arm, stroking back and forth
gently as Paul cuddled against his chest. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"The truth is, I'll do my job. I'll keep you safe while we get your mates,
but then I'll move on."

"I'll be alone."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Paul didn't answer, but his breathing thickened and his silent, hot tears
spilled against Bob's skin. Holding him tightly, the older man rested his
chin on his lover's head and blinked away his own blurring vision. Emotional
dependence didn't come free, did it? His guv would kill him if he found out
what he'd paid, what he'd pay again in a heartbeat.

******************The end


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