Stuart Turner eased his chair away from his desk and stretched, his back muscles protesting at the sudden movement. Typing up the report had taken considerable ingenuity. As much about leaving things out as putting things in there.

They were trapped for three hours, about an hour in it had started to rain. At first they thought they were too deep down to be affected, that was before the filthy water began to cascade over their heads. Stu shivered at the memory, the majority of it had seemed to fall on his left shoulder and pouring down his back, within seconds he was drenched and shivering.

He'd half expected a cocky comeback from Phil, his arm and shoulder were aching from the cold, and the never-ending dribble of water on his shoulder was starting to have a strange effect on his nerves.

The gentle kiss pressed to his cheek surprised him. Suddenly he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His emotions were all over the place.

"Chinese Water Torture."

Stu looked up, "eh?"

"That's what it is... water dripped on you..." Phil shrugged as much as the chain around their upper bodies would allow. "I saw an experiment on Mythbusters once."

Stu raised an eyebrow. "Phil, has anyone ever told you, you watch too much television?"

The constant dripping on his arm was winding his nerves as tight as a drum.

Phil had ignored the sniping, and the tension in Stu's voice, and then he'd done his best to help.

Jo had found them at the point at which they were both reaching the limit of their endurance. They had been freed, thoroughly checked out by the FME despite their arguments that they were fine.

It was end of shift. They had lingered, and suddenly they were the only two left in the department.

They eyed each other warily and Stu stood waiting for the off-colour comment, where Phil would make the joke and they would go back to where they had been.

"Your place or mine?"

At first Stu thought he hadn't heard Phil right, he was still waiting for the joke; for a long moment he stared at his former rival and enemy.

"Mine. It's closer."

"Let's go then."

They moved off. Not speaking. Wondering what they were doing, what imperative was driving them.

They arrived at Stuart's flashy upmarket flat, and Phil checked out his surroundings as they rode up in the lift together. Time seemed to stretch out as Stu let them both in to the flat. He pushed the door closed.

For a few seconds they eyed each other.

Oh god. Impatiently, Phil broke the stand-off. He stepped forward and pushed Stu back against the wall, his hands closed around his rival's wrists as he pushed Stu's hands behind his back. His mouth crushed against Stu's.

"Fuck me." Stu whispered against Phil's mouth.

Phil's jacket hit the ground, as Stu yanked his shirt free of his suit trousers, Phil's hands were at Stu's belt and jeans' waistband as they nipped and tasted, stumbling their way to Stu's bedroom.

As Phil kicked his trousers off, he palmed the supplies from his pocket that he'd made a brief stop for on the way. He dropped across Stu's bed and grinned invitingly. Stu dropped his clothes on the floor next to the bed and flopped down next to him.

Phil processed the dull thud as Stu's clothes landed. Smiling he reached over and picked up Stu's hand cuffs. "Got the keys?" he swung them from his index finger.

"Of course."

Phil's arm yanked Stu closer, as their lips met again.

"Shower?" Stu mumbled between kisses.

Phil nodded, he did some of his best work in the shower.

They tangled beneath the warm spray, kissing, nipping and tasting. Phil picked up Stu's shower gel and squirted a generous dollop into his hand. "Let's see that shoulder."

"It's fine." But Stu turned round anyway, enjoying the sensations of the gentle massage on his left arm and shoulder. Barely noticing Phil's weight pressing him against the wall until the solid sounding click as the cuff closed around his left wrist. Phil trailed kisses down Stu's neck and right shoulder as he closed the second cuff around Stu's right wrist.

"Mine." He whispered.

"Yours..." Stu's voice was hoarse with need. Phil grasped his hips and pulled him back against Phil's erection.

Stu turned in Phil's arms. "Yours." He sank to his knees in front of Phil.

Phil looked down at his soon-to-be lover's dark head, the perfect lean, muscular body, hands cuffed behind his back, the apparently submissive posture. Then Stu looked up, the smile pure Mephistopholes, anything but submissive.

He leaned forward, and flicked the tip of his tongue over Phil's erection.

JEEZ! Phil was uncertain whether he screamed it or it was just in his head. His hands buried themselves automatically in Stu's short black hair, as Stu's tongue continued its journey of exploration.

Phil's knees turned to jelly as Stu pressed a kiss to the underside of Phil's erect cock, trailing kisses up the length, and circling the head with his tongue.

They were both still soaked from the shower, but Phil couldn't wait, he wanted Stu right then. He tugged his partner to his feet... "Now" he gasped.

"Please."

"Please, what?" Phil's voice had developed a growl of its own.

"I want to feel you inside me."

# # # # # #

How they made it to the bed, Phil couldn't have said. Grabbing the lube, he gently worked some into Stu's tight, perfect, passage, gently working his fingers to prepare his lover. He reached out to the bedside table to fumble for the keys to the cuffs. Stu squirmed, "now... please..." he begged, and Phil forgot the cuffs, forgot any inhibitions he may have had, hauling Stuart back into his arms, Stu pushing back onto him.

They made love over and over, shedding the cuffs, turn and turn about, until they were exhausted.

Phil didn't want to let go, he curled into Stuart; Stu wrapped his arms around Phil and eased back onto the pillows, holding his lover close.

They cuddled and dozed, wrapped around each other, tangled up in the duvet, quietly relishing flesh against flesh.

"I'm not gay." Phil felt the sudden need to say it. He didn't want Stuart to get ideas.

"Well, I'm certainly not gay." Stuart's tone was carefully neutral. Phil glanced sideways and caught the flash of genuine hurt in Stu's dark eyes, before it was replaced by that watchful, wary and otherwise inscrutable look which Phil had started to recognise as Stuart's defence mechanism.

Before Stuart could put up the barriers between them again, Phil rolled, pressing his lover back into the pillows and the mattress. His lips claimed Stuart's as the younger man moaned his need and returned Phil's kiss with passion.

Phil settled down to the business of showing his lover how much he wanted him.