|
Fraser knew there was something more to do; he simply could
not bring it to mind. He ran the list through his mind as he stood
sentry. Permits: yes. Accomodations confirmed: yes. Catering;
train; laundry facilities: yes; yes; yes. Thirty-two
Illinois-Welcomes-You packets: yes. Bomb-sniffing dog for the train:
yes--though its handler seemed puzzled when Fraser asked about
searching for the components of a nuclear weapon. Unfortunate.
Fraser didn't want yet another train carrying the Musical Ride to
spark yet another nuclear incident. Once was enough.
Fraser sighed: a sigh undetectable to those around him,
but still cleansing. There was something more to do, but he
couldn't think what. Whatever it was, he would think of it
eventually.
Instead he gave himself over to the pleasure of thinking
about Ray Vecchio. Chicken tonight for supper; eaten at the table.
And Ray, he thought facetiously, for dessert.
Toothsome, satisfying, and--he chuckled inwardly--low-fat.
Thinking of that snug bottom, of the wiry arms, Fraser thought,
Extremely low-fat.
Ray all night in his arms; Ray grumbling that Fraser was
stealing the blanket; Ray protesting how cool the floor was in the
morning--Fraser reminded himself to find a nice, thick rug for
Ray's side of the bed. Ray holding the front door closed with one
hand and pressing Fraser against it for a long, delicious kiss
before they went to breakfast. Lovely.
This offset Ray leaving his soiled clothing on the floor
next to the hamper instead of actually putting it into the
hamper; Ray grumbling in the middle of the night about having to
dress and go down the hall to use the toilet; Ray demonstrating how
cool the floor was by putting his icy feet on Fraser's back when
he returned to bed. Loving Ray without a soupçon of irritation
wasn't really loving Ray.
Fraser let his mind glide over the possibilities of the
evening to come--and of the weekend to come, for that matter.
Amazing how many combinations and variations of kissing, stroking,
licking, nuzzling, sucking, nibbling, thrusting, and caressing he
could think up to try on that responsive body. Why, even after six
months of almost constant experimentation, he could think of dozens
yet to explore.
And then, of course, there were the private fantasies.
Fraser could feel himself flushing; he hoped observers would credit
it to the reflection of his dress uniform. He had never thought
of himself as an imaginative man, had never felt the need to spice
lovemaking with elaborate fantasies. But, sometimes, while Ray
thrust deliciously into him, Fraser would become in his mind a
slave pleasuring his beloved master; and, once or twice, to
Fraser's shame Ray became a conquering warrior raping an unruly
prisoner into submission. Better keep those private--at least for
now.
Ray's fantasies, however, they had begun to explore--at
least the simpler ones. Like making love in his own bed.
One day last summer, a day in the middle of a week they
both had off, they had gone to Ray's house to pick up some papers--an
insurance form or registration for something; Fraser couldn't
remember just what. What he did remember was the soft silence
there, the emptiness of a house where everyone was out. Dust motes
sparkled in the slant of sunlight in the foyer.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot: Ma's got her women's meeting today,"
Ray said. "Everybody's out all afternoon. Now, where did I put
that?"
Fraser watched him search through a paper-littered desk.
"Gee, it's quiet," Ray said. "Did I have it over--" He
went to an end table.
"Gosh," Ray said, pausing in his search. "The fantasies
I've had about having you here. You waiting in bed for me at
night. You and me in my bed--" He ducked his head with a smile
and reached under the couch to feel around.
Fantasies of Fraser waiting to make love in Ray's bed.
Fraser felt his breath quicken. He looked at the kneeling figure
bent in its search and felt a stirring in his groin. Making love
in Ray's bed. Ray wasn't the only one with those fantasies.
Ray climbed to his feet, snapped his fingers. "Dining
room," he said.
Fraser walked ahead of him into the foyer, then paused and
started for the stairs, hands busy.
"Where you goin'?" Ray said.
"Upstairs." Fraser's shirt was unbuttoned now; he removed
it as he climbed the first flight and folded it over his arm. His
hands went to his belt.
"What for?"
Fraser paused at the landing and smiled down at the sunlit
figure, long enough to see understanding dawn in the astonished
face. "Don't forget to lock us in tight," he said. Ray almost
tripped in his scamper for the dining room.
Fraser smiled as he started up the next flight. Wanton.
He felt pleasantly wanton, undressing on his way to Ray's room, to
wait naked in Ray's bed for lovemaking in the middle of the day.
Ray's skin bathed in sunlight; Ray's ardent gasps harsh in Fraser's
ears. He had become a wanton creature; he even liked rolling the
word on his tongue: "wanton."
He dropped the clothing on the floor of Ray's room, so
wanton that he did not even much care if the clothing wrinkled.
A quick gesture, and the counterpane and top sheet drifted to the
floor. He stretched out on his side, naked on the naked bed, hand
automatically going to his hardening penis, to stroke it into
evident arousal.
Ray's bed, where he had lain nights, thinking of this
moment, thinking of Fraser, perhaps thrashing in silent, solitary
orgasm. Fraser's hand went to caress the sheet. Ray's scent rose
from the mattress and the pillows, overwhelming him so that his
penis hardened without touch. He stretched luxuriously on the
smooth sheet and cradled his head in his arms, smiling at the pound
of footsteps on the stairs. He licked his lips. Wanton.
Fraser smiled at the figure in the doorway gaping at the
naked man clearly ready for an afternoon of love.
"Did you find it?" Fraser said after a long moment.
"Uh--yeah." In a squeak.
Good.
Ray closed the door, locked it. His hands seemed
everywhere at once, divesting him of his clothing while he stared
at Fraser. Fraser turned and rose to his knees, spreading them.
He leaned onto his elbows. Now. He was going to be entered, and
he was going to make a lot of noise; fill the empty house
with passionate sounds. Indulge himself and Ray. Fulfill the
fantasies; build a memory for Ray, to last him through the solitary
nights--to last them both through the solitary nights.
He heard Ray striding around the bed and looked over his
shoulder at him, feasting his eyes on the engorging penis, feasting
his ears on Ray's sudden sharp intake of breath. Lust washed
through him. He would indulge his own appetite, drain every
lustful sigh from Ray. Fraser stretched. Now. Oh, god,
now.
Ray fumbled at the drawer in the bedside table, almost
dropping the condom and the tube of jelly he took from it. The
cool jelly only stoked Fraser's desire: he leaned back against
the penetrating fingers, pumping his hips as if the fingers were
the penis he craved. Ray's groan was maddening.
Then the fingers were gone, and the penis was easing into
their place. Hands on his hips, guiding him back to impale himself
on that delicious heat. Hand firm around his penis.
He groaned into the pillow, then lifted his head to groan
louder. "Yes!" he said. "Oh, yessss."
"Ah, geez," Ray groaned. His hips fell into the rhythm
Fraser was seeking.
Thrust back onto that burning fullness, slide forward to
feel the exquisite friction; Fraser's moans of pleasure fell into
the rhythm of the pumping hips, echoed Ray's groans behind him.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
Yes--
And the rhythm sharpening now, Ray's cries building a
climax in Fraser's groin.
"Oh, god, Fraser," Ray moaned. "Oh, Benny,
Benny--"
Hips frantic against his buttocks; firm hand frantic on his
penis; his own hips pumping hard, seeking release, release--
It poured out of him in an instant of howling pleasure
intensified by Ray's cry, by the sensation of that magnificent
penis spasming inside him. Fraser's hips jerked of their own
volition, milking the last bit of pleasure from the moment.
The rasp of their breathing filled the quiet room, the
silent house. Eased onto the semen-dampened bed, Fraser smiled as
he turned to take Ray into his arms. The slight ache between his
buttocks was delicious. Wanton. Truly wanton.
He laved the gasping mouth with his tongue, twining his
legs with Ray's. He scoured the sweat from Ray's throat, dipped
his finger just into the cleavage of Ray's buttocks and licked off
the accumulated sweat. Musk of Ray. The salty musk of love.
Ray's heart thudded against his own. He smiled down into
a love-softened smile.
"Oh, you were noisy," Ray murmured.
"You made me noisy," Fraser accused gently. "You brought
it out of me. You and your fantasies and your strong, beautiful
hands and your thick, beautiful penis, and those--well, those
ears that I just have to--" He sucked an earlobe into his
mouth.
Ray's groan was half laughter. "Ah, god, and you always
struck me as the quiet type," he said.
"It's your fault," Fraser went on. "I was such a nice,
quiet young man before I met you and your hard, beautiful
buttocks and your hard, beautiful nipples and your--" Ray's
laughter drowned the rest.
Naked in the naked bed, they gazed at each other.
"We probably better get going," Ray said. His voice
sounded half-hearted.
"You said no one's coming home for a while," Fraser
reminded him. "Do you know I once almost ravished you in this
bed?"
"Huh?"
"That night I spent here after the fire. We kissed that
next morning, and I came very close to ravishing you on this very
bed." Ray's hazel eyes were on his, huge. "The hiss of those silk
pyjamas against your silky backside, rustling to the floor." Ray's
breathing deepened. "Bending you over the edge of the bed,
feasting my eyes on your alabaster skin in the moonlight." Ray's
leg twitched between Fraser's; his foot began to stroke the calf
of Fraser's leg gently, gently. "Parting those firm, round cheeks.
Inserting myself between them and thoroughly taking my pleasure
there again, and again, and again, and--"
Ray groaned, his chest heaving. "We got no moonlight," he
gasped.
"I know. Perhaps some other time." But he had planted a
fantasy in Ray's fertile brain. Wanton. "Perhaps we could go out
into the country some moonlit night, find a deserted lane."
"A-a-a-ah."
"Bend you over the hood of the Buick." Fraser grinned as
Ray started to laugh. "Trousers down to your knees, moonlight
gleaming on your buttocks--"
"Cock getting whacked off in the grillwork," Ray finished,
laughing. "No thanks!"
Fraser laughed.
"Let's see, bend you over something," Ray said
musingly. "Ravish you repeatedly in spite of your virginal cries.
Someplace Canadian--ooh, your office desk! With the Dragon Lady
right next door, oblivious to your helpless cries."
"We'd have to do without the moonlight," Fraser said.
"She's only there during the day."
"Well, sunlight, then. Less romantic, but definitely
kinkier. I really like the desk idea. Maybe my desk.
Think anybody'd notice?"
"Perhaps if I weren't in the dress uniform."
Ray was smiling at him. Then Ray was kissing him, the
first kiss since they had entered the house. Joy sang in Fraser's
blood. An afternoon together in the empty house.
"So," he said, "what other fantasies have you had
about me being in this house?"
Mrs. Vecchio's automobile had turned onto the street just
as they had driven away.
Wanton, Fraser thought now, standing unblinking
while the tourist took his photograph. Love has made you
wanton.
Sunlight shimmered on the windows opposite the Consulate,
reflecting a web of light onto him. He felt caught in a golden
glow. Love. Wantonness. They were both such lovely feelings.
. . .
Lovely. Watching Fraser wash dishes, knowing they'd
probably be going to bed in just about a minute or two was lovely.
Ray leaned back in the chair, enjoying the way Fraser looked from
the rear, shifting and stretching as he washed dish after dish.
"Hey--whattaya want to do this weekend?" he asked, knowing
the answer.
Fraser turned, half-washed tin plate in his hand, and gave
him a lascivious smile. Yep, just what Ray had thought.
"You know I got Monday off, too," he offered.
"Oh?"
"Columbus Day."
Fraser stopped. "But Columbus Day is tomorrow."
"We observe it Monday."
"That's never made sense to me."
"Fraser, it's every American's god-given right to get every
Monday off that the law will allow. It's one of the things we
fought the Revolution for."
Fraser's look this time was more exasperation than lust.
"Ray, I seriously doubt that a group of colonies rode roughshod
over England and declared itself an independent country so you
could have Mondays off."
"It's an expression, Fraser."
"Yes--one every American seems to use every five days or
so."
"Well, you at least gotta agree with the Columbus Day part:
after all, when he discovered the New World, he discovered Canada,
too."
"Well, Ray, 'discovered' is open to interpretation, as is
Columbus' role in North American history. After all, the Vikings
landed in Newfoundland centuries before Columbus was even born;
and even before that--"
And he was off and lecturing. Ray cheerfully tuned him
out, preferring to focus on the lecturer. The way Fraser
practically lived in his uniform just killed Ray, especially when
Fraser was doing something domestic like dishes. Stern Mountie
boots and regulation Mountie pants--and a dish towel tied around
the regulation Mountie waist, and that little brush people use to
clean out glasses being wielded with precision. Fraser was
describing some rune stone somebody either had or hadn't planted
in Minnesota. Ray grinned at the regulation Mountie back.
Damn, Vecchio, you're such a sap when you're in love. Yep.
Maybe he should just go kiss the dishwasher.
Which he did; and it started something that ended up with
the sheets in a tangle on the floor and them tangled naked in the
sheets.
Ray leaned back against the trunk Fraser had by the bed.
It wasn't in the usual place; it had shifted during one of their
more intense moments, vibrating out of position while they'd-- He
smiled at Fraser, relaxed across his lap, head and shoulders
propped against the wall. Damn--how had Fraser come up with
that?
Sometimes after they'd made love, Fraser had this kind of
dreamy look in his eyes that, combined with the tousled hair and
the flush of lovemaking and the sheen of sweat, made him look
positively edible. He had it now. Ray bent and kissed him,
grunting as some hard-ridden body parts protested; he slid his
mouth over the relaxed lips, glided the tip of his tongue along
them as they parted. Edible.
"Who'd'a thunk it?" Ray said languidly.
Fraser laughed. "And there's more where that came from."
"I just bet."
"Yes. My imagination seems to be limitless where you're
concerned."
"Flattering."
Fraser held Ray's eyes with his. "Inspiring."
They looked at each other for a warm minute.
"I always thought you'd be kinda--conventional," said Ray.
Fraser chuckled.
"I mean--jeez, Fraser, you just don't come off like the
kind of guy who'd come up with half the stuff you do."
Flicker of a frown, quickly smoothed out. "You know, Ray,
it's a bit--annoying that people see politeness and attention to
etiquette as, well, being repressed."
"Oh, you're not repressed, Fraser. You're anything
but repressed. Boy, do I know you're certainly not
repressed."
"Yes, Ray, but-- Sometimes people seem to treat me as if
I were some fluttery virgin."
Ray laughed. No virgin would have just done that.
"I mean, I'm a human being. I have--I have
a--less polite side."
"Of course you do, Fraser. Now, me, I get just the
opposite. I get people forgetting I got feelings."
Fraser's eyes widened in alarm. "Ray, I--"
Oh, some Mounties.... "Not you, Fraser.
Other people."
"Well, Ray, you do rather--protect yourself. Armor
yourself in mistrust of people."
"Trust can do you in, Fraser."
"It can also free you, Ray."
Yeah, well. "That only works for Canadians." He flirted
a smile at Fraser's exasperated frown. "My neighborhood, you
learned early that people can be basically rotten. Not just
Frankie Zuko; I did some rotten things as a kid. Every kid
does."
"Not every kid, Ray."
"Yeah, Fraser, I bet you were helping little old lady polar
bears across the ice just as soon as you could walk."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I just learned early that
consideration for others is--important."
"Yeah, well, some people call that repressed."
"It's not repressed, Ray. It's--thoughtfulness."
Fraser eased himself up, sitting against the wall, his legs
across Ray's. He didn't look so relaxed any more.
"You can't tell me you were this polite as a kid. It's not
natural."
"Ray, it's just as natural to be polite as it is to be
rude."
"Yeah, but--didn't you ever do anything rotten as
a kid?"
Fraser paused, then gave him what Ray thought of as that
bright, blue-eyed smile--the one where his dimples and his honest
looks were supposed to keep you from noticing that you weren't
getting a complete answer. "I once tried to feed a book to a
passing walrus," Fraser said.
But Ray wasn't buying any today, and he let his expression
show it. The smile part froze on Fraser's face; the blue eyes
studied him for a minute.
Then Fraser relaxed and rested his head against the wall,
still watching him. "Would you still love me if I weren't--" He
stopped.
"--perfect?" Ray finished after a minute. His heart was
softening like warm wax. "Oh, yeah, Fraser."
Fraser's look was doubtful, like he didn't really believe
it. Then,
"Sometimes I don't really like myself," Fraser said softly,
looking away. His legs across Ray's lap felt tense. "I think I'm
too judgmental. Or--or not judgmental enough.... And sometimes
even I'm not sure if I'm being courteous out of--" He
hesitated and then laughed. "--out of courtesy, or--or out
of fear."
"Fear of what?"
Fraser focused on him then, the blue eyes wary. "Of--"
He looked at Ray for a minute. "Would you really love me if I--"
"--didn't memorize the name of everybody in the phonebook
on the off chance you might run into them one day?" Ray finished
for him. Fraser laughed, but his eyes stayed wary. "Oh, yeah,
Fraser." And, oh, god, he meant it. Even though he hadn't exactly
liked what he thought of as That Other Mountie--the guy Fraser had
become when he'd lost his memory that time. The rude guy, who
acted just like every other selfish, thoughtless person there was
in the world. But Fraser-- Well, Fraser kind of over did
the politeness thing; he could afford to relax a little, at least
around Ray. Ray could take it. But how to say what really
motivated him? "That extra stuff is--well, it's damn nice,
but--but I'd love you without it." And, oh, dear sweet god he
meant every word.
But Fraser wasn't finished. "But mostly I'm afraid of--"
He studied Ray for a minute. "Of--" A couple of heartbeats.
"Of--of--what might come out," Fraser finally whispered. His face
stiffened. He was watching Ray.
Ray regarded him for a minute. What to say? He'd known
for a long time what lurked deep inside Fraser: seen it at the
very beginning in the satisfaction when a would-be assassin went
over a cliff; in the desperate run after Victoria Metcalfe at the
train station; in the smothered fury when they'd babysat his
father's murderer. Fraser was nobody's cuddly little kitten. He'd
been scraped and scalded by life, and part of him wanted to snarl
and lash out; Ray had come to recognize that. Perhaps because it
was all too familiar in himself. But what to say?
Ray leaned forward and placed his mouth on Fraser's: firm,
no nonsense. Not a sexual kiss; but Fraser's breathing was ragged
at the end of it. Not a come-hither kiss; but Fraser's eyes were
wide when he looked at Ray.
"You and me," Ray told him, "we got the same jungle inside
us. Only I let mine take over once in a while, and you try to
cover yours over in concrete." Oh, that was just dumb. But he
couldn't think of another way to put it. "It keeps cracking the
concrete, and then you just pour more on. But it's just gonna keep
coming through the concrete. You got to--" Got to what, Dr.
Sigmund Vecchio? "You got to--you got to look at all of it, so you
can find your way through it. And find your way out of it when you
need to." Oh, that was just stupid.
But Fraser was looking at him like he'd just invented
relativity. "And would you--would you love me if I--if I
let--that part of me--" Deep breath. "If I let that part of
me--out?" Such wary blue eyes.
They'd been here before. "Oh, yeah, Fraser." Geez, his
heart was racing. "But--but would you love--me?"
Fraser's eyes softened; his tongue flickered over his
bottom lip. "Oh, yeah, Ray," he said softly.
And he leaned over and pinned Ray to the trunk in a kiss
that just confirmed it.
So this was probably why a few days later, naked against
the naked Mountie, Ray listened with astonishment to the sound of
his own handcuffs clicking around his wrists, looked up into eyes
suddenly distant as a clear winter sky. "Fr--" he said, before
the handkerchief was shoved in his mouth and bound there by
another.
Ray squirmed against the mattress, trying to sit up. As
often as he'd joked about handcuffs and sex, he'd never actually
thought he'd like the combination: too reminiscent of childhood
helplessness, of somebody else--somebody untrustworthy--calling
the shots, with him unable to protect himself. The
goosebumps that suddenly prickled his skin all over weren't because
he was cold.
Fraser was kneeling over him, keeping him flat, his cuffed
hands a knot between the mattress and the small of his back.
Helpless. The thumping of his heart may have been that or it may
have been Fraser's nearness or it may have been fear.
Fraser smiled down at him--a smile with an edge to it. Ray
tried to smile back through the gag. Fraser's lips grazed his
forehead, his temple, his ear. "Well, Ray--" Fraser's whisper
was a tickle in his ear. "--you did invite me to explore
the jungle inside me." His tongue traced the structure of Ray's
ear. "Don't you trust me?"
Ray's back stiffened. Oh, god, didn't he-- He drew a
ragged breath. Didn't he, after all this time together, after all
they'd been through together, didn't he-- Well, usually, he'd say,
"yes," but--but, now--
The blue eyes were implacable. "Don't you trust me?" said
the soft mouth he'd plundered so often.
Ray looked up into the depthless eyes. Didn't he? This
was Benny. Didn't he trust Benny with his whole heart? Well, with
his heart, yes, but--but didn't he trust Benny with his whole body?
His nod seemed a little jerky, but he didn't think Fraser
noticed. After all, he did trust Fraser. Yeah--
really. Really truly.
Fraser's eyes had warmed; his smile was more like normal.
"Good." His warm mouth made its way down the side of Ray's throat.
Ray's eyes closed of themselves. Okay. This was
good--he liked this. This was actually kind of better than good,
even with the handcuffs, because--well, he wasn't exactly sure why.
"Now then." And the touch of fabric across his eyes
jolted him. Ray thrashed, but it did no good: Fraser was in
charge now, and he simply tied the blindfold just like Ray was
cooperating.
Fraser's hands were gentle on his shoulders. "You can't
have stopped trusting me, Ray." His voice was gentle and sounded
a little disappointed.
Oh, couldn't he? Ray tried to will his muscles into
relaxing. Quit panicking, Vecchio. This was Fraser doing
all this; Fraser wouldn't hurt you; Fraser loves you. And
all the time, at the back of his mind a little voice was saying,
Damn it, Vecchio, you had to open your big, dumb mouth, had to
try to talk Dudley Do-Right into walking on the wild side. Why do
you have to do that? Huh? Just to needle him? Just to prove that
really, after all, deep down, he's really no better than you?
He barely felt Fraser's hands skimming his chest, focusing
instead on keeping himself limp. See, Fraser? I trust you.
Really.
A pause, then Fraser's mouth at his throat again, teeth
sliding down to his collarbone. Little nibble here and here. Oh,
Fraser was taking forever. This was never gonna be over.
Fraser's mouth at Ray's lower lip, teasing it out from
under the gag, sucking on it. Kinky. Kinkier when Fraser started
chewing, then bit hard enough to startle, then sucked on it some
more, soothing where he'd bitten. Heat was gathering in Ray's
groin. His hands were falling asleep. He moaned against Fraser's
mouth, though maybe not at the cramp starting in his arms, but at
the chewing Fraser was doing again on his bottom lip. More tongue,
then a final nip--a hard one, this time, hard enough so the pain
lingered.
Side of his neck, and top of shoulder, touched only with
teeth and hot mouth, cooling where Fraser's tongue had lingered.
Funny how you noticed things you wouldn't if you could watch that
slack rosebud mouth against your skin, see those fingers twine
themselves in chest hair.
Tongue circling his nipple, now; brief pause; then teeth
gently tugging before the tongue came back. Teeth delicately
worrying the tender nipple bud, gripping harder and harder; and
then, just as it really began to hurt, mouth sucking hard, tongue
roughing the throbbing nipple in a way that was damned far from
being unpleasant.
Teeth and tongue exploring the other nipple, now, bolder,
sucking harder. Then mouth sliding across his ribs, tracing each
one. Dryness of lips and wetness of tongue. Ray shifted. His
cock was hardening, and his hips were twitching, aching to thrust.
Benny astride him now, soft ass brushing his thighs,
bumping the tip of his cock, hard thighs gripping his hips. Husky
breathing as hands explored the softness of his belly. Was Benny
smiling at him all laid out for his enjoyment, all helpless against
those hands? Ah, jeez, Fraser might do anything. Ray's
moan was smothered in the gag.
Sudden shift, then tongue against navel. Lingering over
his lower belly. He tried to keep his hips from lifting themselves
to offer his cock for Benny's mouth. Benny was calling the shots;
this was Benny's party.
Hands rearranging him, and then the gentle tongue enjoying
the sensitive back of his knee. His groan was half disappointment
and half appreciation. Mouth sliding up the inside of one thigh,
teeth nipping it harder and harder as Fraser came closer and closer
to Ray's balls. Ray found himself catching a deeper and deeper
breath with each flash of ecstatic pain. Would Fraser stop before
he did something that really hurt? Would Ray be able to stand it
if he did stop?
Fraser's teeth grazing Ray's balls now, so exquisite that
Ray groaned. A pause. Then those teeth on Ray's cock. Ray was
limp, with pleasure and with fear and with, he realized, a dread
that Fraser would stop. Don't stop. Don't ever stop, Fraser. The
exquisite pain of teeth just gripping the head of his cock was just
this side of pleasure.
And then the light scrape of the teeth all the way down his
cock, and a quick, hard suck that lifted his hips, before the mouth
went away and Fraser's hands yanked him by the ankles so his ass
rested on the edge of the bed. Fraser spread Ray's legs wide, ran
his hands up Ray's thighs, thumbnails scoring a line of delicious
fire. A tug at Ray's waist brought him up to sit, swaying.
Pain radiated up his arms as blood rushed back into them;
he wiggled his fingers to get the deadness out. The pins and
needles in his hands and arms, the throbbing of his cock, the
roughness of the rug under his feet, the tingles of pain where
Fraser had used his teeth, the dryness of the gag, the fading ache
where Fraser's thumbnails had dug into his thighs, the sweetness
of Fraser's strong arms circling him, the smoothness of Fraser's
hands caressing his ass while Fraser's mouth worked his neck and
Fraser's hard cock stabbed his thigh--it all just--it just--
Oh, Benny, do what you want with me--I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm
yours.
Then, light, and Ray blinked. Benny's face was right
there, almost too close to focus on. Sweat on the flushed face.
The heat in those blue eyes could have melted cold steel.
"So, do you trust me?" Benny asked.
Ray's nod was languid.
"Do you really trust me--trust me to do whatever I want?"
Husky whisper right in his ear.
Ray's heart jumped like a startled rabbit, but he held
Benny's eyes as he nodded. And was rewarded by one of Benny's
sunny smiles, the kind that could ignite wet paper.
Ray wasn't wet paper. And, oh god, his bones were melting
as Fraser wrapped him in strong arms, dragging him close, taking
that lower lip again into a mouth hot and warm and busy with teeth
and tongue.
Fraser's cock slid against his, then that burning cock was
hard against his belly, then harder, as Fraser's hand clutched his
ass tighter, tighter. The other hand was on the back of Ray's
neck; oh, god, he couldn't get away if he tried. Helpless, with
Benny still calling the shots.
Ray's legs wrapped themselves around Fraser's hips,
clamping tight, grinding his cock against Fraser's belly. Heat
against heat; helpless to do anything but ride that silky belly.
He pressed his heels against Fraser's sides.
Then Fraser gathered him closer, fingers bruisingly tight
on his ass, cock sliding against his sweat-slick belly, riding it,
riding it. A shift in Fraser's breathing.
And a sense of being weightless, before something cold and
hard touched his shoulders, his arms. Oh, god, the wall--Benny
had actually picked him up and gotten them both over against a
wall. Ray's arms were being pinched between his body and the wall,
but oh it was exquisite: animal growling from Benny's hot mouth
against his bottom lip, matching his own, Benny's ass clenching in
the circle of Ray's legs, hard fingers clutching his ass, big hand
gripping the back of his neck, slick belly, searing cock, click of
handcuffs hitting hard plaster, clicking harder, clicking faster,
faster, faster, fast--
His groin exploded just as Benny ground his hips into Ray's
belly, smothering Ray's raw cry with one of his own. Wetness
flooded between them. Ray tightened his legs, riding both orgasms
for as long as he could. Oh, his breath--he would never catch his
breath. Benny's body jerked against his once, twice, again.
Then half a heartbeat, and Benny's hand left his ass, to
thump onto the wall beside them. Legs. Unlock legs and try to
stand. It sort of worked, especially if he propped himself against
the wall.
Fraser's eyes were soft--tenderness still colored with
lust. Slowly, he worked the gag out of Ray's mouth; Ray grimaced
as Fraser drew out the handkerchief. Cotton. Really dried out the
mouth. At last a good, deep breath. Then Fraser's hand steadied
his chin, and Fraser's mouth was on his, wet tongue sliding over
Ray's dry one, dampening the inside of his cheeks, the roof of his
mouth. Thank you very kindly, but that's not going to substitute
for a good drink of water.
But he took it as it was intended, and he leaned in for
some gentle nuzzling, breathing in the smell of sweat and Fraser
and what they'd just done together. Back to the bed on unsteady
legs, where Fraser unlocked the handcuffs and eased the cramp out
of Ray's shoulders and arms with fingers as gentle now as they'd
been bruising earlier.
Oh, lovely to stretch out on the rumpled bed, Fraser's
hands deft on his shoulders and his back. Lovelier still to feel
Fraser stretch out beside him and gather him close.
"That," Ray said, "was wild."
Fraser's low chuckle rumbled against his chest.
"I thought you were gonna get out the whips and chains
there, for a minute," Ray went on.
"Wasn't that enough for you?" Surprise in wide Mountie
eyes.
"Oh, yeah--sure. I just wasn't--I mean, you really might
of--"
"Ray!" The eyes were wider now. "Do you think I could
actually--I could actually hit you? I could never do that,
Ray, not after what you've said about your fath-- I could never
do that. And--actually--hurting you. I could never do
that."
Ray ran his fingers through Benny's hair, smiling languidly
at him. Oh, yeah, Ray had known that all along. Really. His
heart thumped happily, and he slid his leg over Fraser's, drawing
him closer. Fraser was watching him.
"You know, Ray, I--I know the darkness inside me,
intimately. What you said about the jungle inside me the other
night: I've explored that jungle; I know all its paths. I have
to: how could I make a good law officer if I don't know what
people are capable of when they're frightened, when they're pushed,
when they're desperate? I don't repress my emotions; I simply
don't act on all of them. I'm capable of--" He swallowed, hard;
his eyes slid away and then returned. Ray's grip tightened. "I
can let passion ruin my life--I can let passion destroy--" Another
swallow; hold him tighter. "I can let passion destroy everyone
around me. I can let hatred kill and be glad it's done so. But,
Ray--" Fraser's hand was gentle on Ray's cheek. "Ray, knowing the
shadows in the human soul, I can also choose kindness. I know you
sometimes think my devotion to the law is exaggerated and my
devotion to courtesy is old-fashioned and laughable--" He grinned
at Ray grinning at him. "--but--but, Ray, it gives me a framework
for helping others, a structure for my best impulses. Ray, you
said you would love me if I weren't so--" Oh, hey, he was turning
a new shade of red: Flushed Mountie. "If I weren't so--" Say
it, Fraser; c'mon, you can say it. "If I weren't so--so--perfect."
They both started to breathe again. "You said you'd
love me if I weren't so courteous.
"But, Ray--would you still love me even if I were?"
Geez, Vecchio, how the hell do you get yourself into
these things? How'd your life get to be like this? Would you love
Fraser even if he expressed those deep, dark, hidden urges to do
good things; would you love him even if he was Mr. Nice Guy
Mountie--and these were serious questions. Vecchio, you sure can
pick 'em. The grin that plastered itself on his face felt
goofy, but he tried to give the questions and the questioner the
seriousness they deserved.
"Oh, yes, Fraser. Oh, very much yes, Fraser. Bounce me
off walls, bounce me on feather beds, beat me with chains, treat
me like glass--I'd still love you. Keep me waiting in the cold
while you hold the door for five thousand people with shopping
bags, and I'll still love you. Silly of me, I know it, but--but,
damn it, Fraser, I'll love you no matter what."
Amazing what a couple of words could do: Benny's face was
glowing. Seal it with a kiss.
When they came up for air, Fraser was grimacing. "Well,
Ray, the wall-bouncing may have to wait a bit: I think I strained
a muscle when we--"
Ray laughed gently as he reached to massage the offending
muscle, smiled at Fraser's groan of pleasure when he found the
right spot, laughed harder as he felt Fraser's arms slide around
him, locking him in a gentle embrace while he warmed to his job.
Ah, Vecchio, you sure can pick 'em. You really, really can.
. . .
On to part four
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