Doyle ventures two different kind of jumps.
Blue Skies by Maggie Hall
Bodie collapsed back onto the bed, making himself comfortable and opening their beers with a Swiss army knife. Feeling reasonably sure that any man who could survive throwing himself out the door of an airplane five times in as many hours could survive a bit of forceful rejection, he steeled himself, mentally counted "One! Two! Three!" in his head, and turned with a calculated smile to his partner. "Bodie."
Bodie was propped on the mattress, one leg up, wrist on his knee and satisfied smirk on his face. "What do you do for afters around here?"
"What do you have in mind?" Bodie asked, leering for the joke--and Doyle was sure it was a joke. He didn't delude himself into misinterpreting empty innuendo, not tonight. But he raised his hand anyway, and dropped it gently, firmly to Bodie's groin. Well, you could've thought of something a bit more subtle than that, he chided himself, feeling the adrenalin kick through him just as it had earlier today. Of all the stupid....
"Bloody hell." It seemed all Bodie could manage; Doyle supposed he should be pleased his hand was still attached to his wrist.