TITLE: A Matter of Trust
AUTHOR: Violet Nightingale
FANDOM: Dalziel and Pascoe
RATING: NC-17 M/M
WARNINGS: None
PAIRING: Dalziel/Pascoe

SERIES: Sequel to follow

DISCLAIMER: Thank you, Reginald Hill, for creating these wonderful characters which I’ve merely borrowed at no profit.





 

A Matter of Trust

 

by Violet Nightingale


Superintendent Andy Dalziel sat morosely in his living room nursing the last of his beer and listening to the rain beat relentlessly against the windows. The TV was on but the volume was low and he paid no attention to it.

God, he couldn’t stand it any more! He loved that lad and today... Today he’d nearly seen him killed. He could so easily have been killed down that bloody mine - hell, they both could have been! - and all because Ellie took a shine to a miner.

Why? Andy Dalziel asked himself for the umpteenth time. Why had he ever got Peter Pascoe together with Ellie Soper? God, he’d practically pushed them together and he knew damn well why - because he’d wanted his subordinate for himself. Because he knew Peter was straight and would most likely never return the feelings. So Peter was safely married to Ellie and they had a wonderful daughter, Rosie.

Me little goddaughter, he thought fondly, nursing his beer. But what will this business do to their marriage now? he worried. Me thinks the Pascoes are in a rough patch, he mused, wondering if the object of his thoughts would come to visit tonight as he frequently did whenever he and Ellie had a row. However, on glancing at the clock he realised that it was nearly eleven pm and he may as well call it a night. Outside the rain had not let up.

"Bloody miserable night! Bugger it, maybe they worked it out," he decided, rising and turning off the TV before taking his beer glass to the sink. As he ascended the stairs he undid his shirt buttons so that the shirt was already half off him by the time he reached his bedroom.

"A good hot shower is what I need!" he muttered, removing the rest of his clothing before stepping into the bathroom and turning on the water full blast. However, as he lathered himself profusely his thoughts turned once more to his friend and colleague.

"As always," he murmured, though this time there was no inherent protest in the words, just resignation. The man would never be his, not in that way. Not as a lover. He really should go out and find himself a good woman. "Yeah, another substitute," he muttered. Wasn’t that what his wife had been? A nice, safe substitute. He hadn’t wanted the complication of a man in his life though he had tried it. So he’d buried his need in the warm, willing bodies of women, and he’d had no complaints, and he’d enjoyed it while it lasted, all the while denying the ache inside him that craved for so much more. He’d spent the last twenty years denying his needs to the point of pushing his handsome Inspector into marrying Ellie Soper to keep him safe. "Aye, safe from me," his thoughts taunted. And where had that got him?

As he lathered his groin he could not help but think of Peter, of what it would feel like to have those long fingers touch him with desire, to be able to run his hands all over that long, beautiful body, to feel that incredibly sweet mouth on his and push his tongue into it. To feel that wonderful, hard cock enter him, longing for him...

Oh, he’d looked. Looked in the Men’s Room like all men did. Yes, by all means check out the competition. And he’d looked and admired - and wanted.

"Stuff this!" he muttered. "I won’t do this every night!" He turned off the hot tap and the now-icy water had the desired effect as it sluiced down on him. His erection rapidly wilted and he broke out in goose bumps before quickly turning off the shower.

As he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a snow-white towel around him he heard the ring of the doorbell.

"Bloody ‘ell!" he swore, padding into the bedroom and leaving a trail of damp footprints on the carpet. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that it was now after eleven - Peter never came this late.

He grabbed for his dressing gown as the bell rang again, shouldering into it as he ran downstairs. "All right, all right! I’m coming!" he called out. However, as he opened the door, there stood the object of his illicit fantasies.

"God lad, ya’re soaked! Come in, come in!"

A somewhat bedraggled Peter Pascoe stood on the doorstep, the rain pelting down even worse now.

"Thanks. I’m not too late, am I? I mean..."

"Don’t be daft!" Dalziel admonished gently as he closed the door, shutting out the wet, cold night. He took Pascoe’s raincoat and hung it up.

As they entered the living room Dalziel offered a scotch which the other man gratefully accepted as they sat on the couch together.

After a long pause it was Dalziel who broke the silence. "So tell me, lad, how bad is it?" he queried gently.

"Bad enough."

"Anything I can do?" Dalziel’s heart bled for the lad even as a small voice inside him rejoiced and murmured maybe now he can be yours.

Silently, Pascoe shook his head, taking another sip of his scotch.

It was Dalziel who reached out at that moment to cover the other’s hand with his own. "Tell me," he murmured.

To his surprise, Pascoe turned his hand to grasp his. It was with great pleasure that Dalziel returned the grip as they sat comfortably together.

"We had a fight."

"Sunbeam, it doesn’t take a detective to figure that much," he gently chided. "Now let me guess: You fought over the late and unlamented Mr Colin Farr."

Pascoe nodded his head dejectedly before turning to look Dalziel directly in the eyes. "She blames me for his death."

"What!" he expostulated. "You could have been killed, and all because your Ellie brought Farr back to Burrthorpe."

"She thought of him as some kind of noble savage. You know, a victim of his harsh environment."

"God save me!" Dalziel sighed. "And you fought over me too, I suppose."

"You suppose right."

Dalziel smiled, but it was not a happy one. "And what does your Ellie think I’ve done now?"

"The usual."

Dalziel knew well what ‘the usual’ meant. One night he’d gone to collect Peter late and he’d overheard them fighting - over him - with Ellie complaining loudly that he was forever coming between them and demanding that they move back to London and Peter equally adamant that they were staying put in Wetherton.

"And what about ‘er? What she’s done?"

"Nothing, she says."

"I didn’t ask what Ellie said, I asked what you thought."

"God knows! She swears nothing happened and she just felt sorry for him."

Dalziel gave a gentle squeeze to the hand in his own.

"And d’ya believe her?"

"Don’t know. Guess I want to."

Dalziel came to a decision. For the sake of his peace of mind Pascoe had to believe, rightly or wrongly, that nothing happened between his wife and Colin Farr.

"Sunbeam, if your Ellie says nothing happened then ya’d best be believin’ it."

"I hope you’re right!"

"Trust me, Sunbeam. Your Ellie’s a good woman. She wouldn’t go behind your back like that." Pascoe nodded. "Sunbeam, ya’re all right with me, ya know that."

"Shit, Andy, I shouldn’t have come. Sorry. You need your sleep." He rose before Dalziel could stop him.

"Nay, lad, stay. We both could do with sleep. Ya can stay in the spare room."

This elicited a grateful smile. "Thanks, Andy. Uh, I’d better ring Ellie and let her know where I am."

Dalziel just shook his head. "Sunbeam, d’ ya think for one minute she doesn’t know where y’are?"

Pascoe sighed and nodded. "Of course. I’m not thinking straight."

"Come on. Let’s get ya tucked in."

*

Once upstairs he gave Pascoe a spare bathrobe, pyjamas and toothbrush. From the bedroom he listened to the sounds of him using the shower and thought how easily he could get used to this; how he would love to have the lad share this place with him; how he would love to go to bed with him every night and wake up beside him every morning. Be grateful he’s ‘ere, he chided himself sternly. He’s here, and that’s all that matters.

Pascoe emerged from the steam of the bathroom wearing Dalziel’s blue bathrobe and towelling his damp hair.

Lord, but ‘e’s a fair prize! Dalziel vowed silently, sitting on the bed watching Pascoe walk toward him, the belted robe showing off the contours of his slender body. As if he could ever desire the likes of me! his thoughts continued to taunt him.

"Are you sure you don’t mind?" Pascoe queried.

Dalziel stood to face him. "Lad, if ya ever need a place to stay, this is it! And we’ll ‘ear no more about it."

Peter gave a grateful smile. "You have a good heart, Andy."

"Aye, but just don’t bandy it about!" Dalziel returned the smile. "I’m supposed to be the tough copper. Besides, lad, I’m fond ‘a ya. Ya know that."

At that moment Pascoe gazed at him, green eyes somehow all-seeing, penetrating the depths of his soul.

"You want more though." The simple statement of fact contained no accusation or derision, just truth - and it floored Andy Dalziel.

"Now what makes ya’ think that?" he finally managed after a long moment of stunned silence.

Pascoe shook his head. "You don’t even deny it."

Dalziel managed to hold his partner’s gaze.

"Aye then, lad, I won’t deny it. Ya’re too good a detective for that. Nor will I put pressure on ya to do anything ya don’t want."

It was Pascoe’s turn to look away now as he paced agitatedly up and down the room.

"Look... It’s just..." In frustration, he ran his fingers through his damp hair. "It’s just that..."

"Nay, Sunbeam, it’s all right. I’ve had me share of knockbacks and God knows I don’t expect you to want an ugly bugger like me. Now come along and let’s get ya into bed." However, as he made to walk out of the room Pascoe grabbed his arm.

"No, wait! Let me finish."

Dalziel hesitated, caught in the doorway and only just realising that he was walking out of his own room and there was nowhere to go anyway.

"All right, lad, say it. Get it off your chest." He turned to face Pascoe.

"I’m just... I’m not sure..."

Dalziel’s heart went out to him. "Ya’re fond ‘a me, but ya don’t fancy me, is that it?" Judging by the frustrated and pleading look on Pascoe’s face Dalziel knew it was true. He shook his head fondly. "Lad, I told ya, I don’t expect anythin’ from ya. Ya owe me nothing and I’ll never put pressure on ya. Now we’ll say no more about it."

"I’m sorry."

Dalziel gripped him by the upper arms. "Don’t be, lad! Now go to bed ‘fore I kiss ya goodnight!" he threatened playfully.

Pascoe’s eyes widened at that. "You’d do that?"

Dalziel shook his head. "Sunbeam, don’t tempt me!" he warned only half in jest.

It was Pascoe’s turn to grab his superior by the upper arms. "Oh, sod it!" he muttered. "You want it? Do it!" he demanded.

"Lad, ya’re courtin’ trouble and ya know it! Now..." but before Dalziel could utter another word Pascoe had stepped even closer and covered his astonished partner’s mouth with his own. The kiss was brief and he pulled back to gaze into Dalziel’s wide eyes.

"Lad, y’are playin’ with fire!" he warned. "Are ya sure this is what ya want?"

Pascoe gazed steadily at him. "No, but kiss me anyway."

Dalziel smiled and shook his head. "Ya know I’d never hurt ya, lad..." However, before he could say more his attractive Inspector was kissing him once more - and this time he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. As he felt the younger man’s tongue probe his mouth to play with his own he couldn’t believe the joy he felt in this simple yet profound act, and he pulled his very desirable partner closer still while feeling his cock now getting into the act as well.

Finally, they had to come up for air and Dalziel gazed into Pascoe’s eyes, observing his expression carefully. What he saw there pleased him immensely.

"Think ya can stand it?" he murmured, smiling into his partner’s face.

Pascoe, breathing considerably elevated, merely nodded before Dalziel pulled him close once more to cover his cheeks in kisses. "Ah, lad," he murmured as Pascoe’s warm lips covered his own once more and he reached to undo the knot in Dalziel’s robe before sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall gently to the floor.

Dalziel returned the favour while gently sucking and nibbling on the younger man’s neck, being careful to leave no marks - well, at least not where they would show. Now he pushed his hand between them to fondle his partner’s generous cock, gratified to feel the hardness there and see that it was as he’d imagined it would be - and he’d almost forgotten how good it felt.

Somehow they were on the bed and Peter was on top of him, hands everywhere, stroking him, kissing his chest, gently biting his nipples - God how long was it since anyone had done that to him! - and the hard rod of his sex was pushing against his own, stimulating them both even more.

He reached beneath the pillow for the lubricant he kept there for lonely nights and hitherto-forbidden fantasies and gave it to his partner. Pascoe, on realising what he held in his hand, ceased all activity to gaze questioningly at him.

"Don’t look so worried, Sunbeam. I’d nae hurt ya for the world, but I want ya." He smiled. "Inside. Take it easy though, it’s been a while."

Pascoe, taken slightly aback by the words, now realised for the first time that his older partner was no novice.

"You sure?" he panted slightly.

Dalziel nodded. "Lad, I’ve wanted this almost since the first day I laid eyes on ya." Pascoe’s eyes widened in the lamplight. "Surprised ya, ‘ave I? Well, as they say, truth will out," he glanced down to where Pascoe’s hand was around his cock, "... and that thing never lies. It always knows what it wants."

It was Pascoe’s turn to be taken aback. "You mean you got a hard-on for me that long ago?"

"Aye, lad, and it’s been coming back to haunt me regular ever since."

"Four years," Pascoe muttered. "Four years..." He hung his head before once more turning to his partner.

"I might ‘ave one foot in the grave, lad, but I’m not dead yet!" Dalziel’s gap-toothed grin was disarming and Pascoe chuckled softly.

"Then let me try and make it up to you."

Dalziel gave a soft chuckle. "Ah, lad, ya please me, ya do! So much. So very much." He hugged his partner, feeling the embrace returned with strength. "But if ya want to begin..." he added slyly.

Taking the tube of lubricant from his partner, he uncapped it and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers before proceeding to coat Pascoe’s superb erection, drinking in the expressions of pleasure on the younger man’s face as he prolonged the stroking, fingers moving lower to fondle swollen testicles.

"Oh, God, you’d better stop!" Pascoe moaned.

Dalziel ceased his stroking and reached to wipe his hand with a tissue before turning to crouch on all fours.

"Now, me lad, now," he murmured.

Pascoe was immediately behind him, arms around him, stroking his back, his buttocks, his thighs. Out of sight of his partner’s keen gaze he smiled at the site before him.

"You know, Detective Superintendent, your rear’s not half bad." Pascoe squeezed the globes of said rear.

The older man snorted and shook his head. "You mean I’ve a fat arse!"

"A little rounded, but actually slimmer than it appears."

Dalziel managed to gaze at the ceiling, no mean feat in his position. "Cut the commentary, Sunbeam, and get on with it!" he demanded.

"Aye, Sir!" Pascoe positively grinned. Never had he thought he’d ever see his dominating superior officer down on all fours and begging to be fucked.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

Dalziel sighed in frustration. "Look, lad, if it makes ya ‘appy pretend I’m a Halloween pumpkin and you’re a lit candle."

The image his partner’s words conveyed left Pascoe chuckling helplessly, his cock wilting a little.

"Lord, lad, you’d try the patience of a saint!" Dalziel complained loudly.

"Well stop making me laugh!" Pascoe retorted.

"Well get on with it!" Dalziel demanded.

"Yes, Sir!"

He began to stroke his cock against the tight entrance to his partner’s body, amazed that in seconds it was as hard as it had been before. He pushed slowly inside a little and almost withdrew completely before pushing back in once more, each gentle thrust inching a little deeper. Each time his eager cock slipped a little farther inside the pleasure of the action was so extreme, the sheer eroticism of watching his cock sink into his superior’s body so utterly right that he feared he would not last long. With each thrust now he was almost all the way in.

"Am I hurting you?" he managed to gasp.

His eager partner shook his head. "More," he begged, almost whimpering in delight.

"You want more you got it." This time Pascoe allowed himself to slide all the way in, the heat and tightness of his lover’s body almost proving his undoing. Desperately, he stayed motionless, trying to control his orgasm. Sex with Ellie was never like this, but right now he had no time to examine the reasons.

"Oh, God, lad, yes! Yes!" Dalziel pleaded. "Come on, Sunbeam, move!"

Pascoe gritted his teeth, took several deep breaths, withdrew almost all the way before driving in again, cock totally buried now in his partner.

"God, yes! Yes! Harder, lad, harder! Take us to heaven!""

Dalziel was pushing back against him now and he was mindless, weightless, thrusting without thought, without reason. Thrusting insanely, the passion peaking within him as he stroked his partner’s heavy cock, vaguely aware of it spurting profusely onto his fingers. In moments he, too, came, his joy flowing from him in sharp jolts of ecstasy as his cock was rhythmically squeezed in the wonderful heat of his lover’s body and Peter Pascoe experienced the longest, sweetest orgasm of his life, the pleasure encompassing him so completely that he never wanted it to end.

*

After cleansing themselves they turned out the lamp and lay quietly together, legs intertwined, Pascoe’s head on Dalziel’s shoulder while the rain continued to drum against the window. After a while Pascoe murmured, "I got a bit carried away." His partner snorted at that.

"‘A bit’?"

"Well you were egging me on!" he accused.

"Aye, that I was, lad." He turned to gaze lovingly upon the younger man’s beauty. "That I was..." He touched his lips to Pascoe’s, feeling the kiss returned "... and ya took quite a bit of eggin’ on as I recall, but I wanted ya to let loose."

"But I could’ve hurt you!" Pascoe accused.

"Nay, lad. I may be out a’ practice but I can still take it. Ya never hurt me. Never," he assured, realising that he would probably be a bit stiff and sore in the morning. "And I wanted ya." Pascoe smiled up at him. "God, how I wanted ya!"

Dalziel could not resist that wonderful smile and leaned closer to share a another kiss that was gentle and sweet.

"I think I was a little insane!" Pascoe continued. "I’m not..." He faltered. "I’m not usually like that."

"Ya mean you’re usually controlled?" Pascoe nodded. "Well I want ya like that. Like tonight." He gazed deeply into the younger man’s slightly troubled eyes. "I want ya uncontrolled, lad. Always." He kissed Pascoe’s cheek. "Ya know I’d forgotten until tonight the feel of another man’s power as he fucks the living daylights out of ya." More like didn’t want ta let myself remember, he decided.

Pascoe smiled. "It doesn’t seem to worry you."

"Nay, why should it? It’s the most desirable thing in this world to trust your partner so much you can let him ‘ave at it with impunity and know deep down in your heart he’d never hurt ya. Matter a’ trust, that’s all. Trusting in another’s power - and matching yours agin it..." he gazed into his partner’s eyes once more, "strength for strength."

Pascoe gave a long sigh. "God, if I wasn’t so damn tired you’d have me horny again!" he complained.

"The morning’ll do, lad." Dalziel yawned. "The morning’ll do." He appeared thoughtful. "By the way, do you snore?"

Pascoe smiled. "Not according to expert witnesses." He opened one eye. "Do you?"

"I’ll ‘ave you know I’ve never snored in me life!"

"Glad to hear it. ‘Night, Andy." He pressed a kiss to his superior’s cheek.

"‘Night, Sunbeam."

As the younger man drifted off in his arms, Andy Dalziel thought he heard him murmur, "Thank God I came here tonight..."

On the edge of sleep Dalziel smiled. Aye, lad, he thought, I thank God ya did too, and whatever happens on the morrow we’ll always ‘ave this.

*** * ***



 

[BritSlash Contents Page]  [BritSlash Fiction Archive]