Vodka is Your Friend
Turnbull was taking his sweet
fucking time.... well, fucking, really.
It had started with a half a bottle
of Sobieski. Ray was determined that this was the night he told
Fraser the truth. Only problem was that when the Consulate door
opened and he started spewing "I love you. I know this changes
everything, but I couldn't keep it inside any longer. I want to
touch you so much I can't stand it. Please, just please, TOUCH
me!" to the bright red chest, he hadn't bothered to look up and see
that it was Turnbull.
Fucking Turnbull! Apparently,
he'd picked the one night Fraser went to some conference with the Ice
Queen and Turnbull was left to watch Dief. Well, to be honest,
maybe Frase had mentioned it the other day, but Ray had been too
interested in staring at Fraser's eyes and missed the whole damn thing.
The weird part was that when he
looked up and realized his mistake, he saw this look on Turnbull's
face. It was like someone had told him that Christmas was early
and that all the presents under the tree were his and his alone.
Then there was a quick jerk, a hot kiss inside, and the next thing Ray
knew he was sprawled out on the fucking Royal bed, or whatever the
kooky Canadians called it, buck naked. The Sobieski was making it
really hard to try and explain, much less get up, put his clothes back
on, and go home.
But then the wildest thing
happened, Turnbull pounced on him and that goofy exterior just
evaporated. The man was a fucking animal and that ain't no
lie. The things he was doing to Ray's abs with his tongue would
have put Fraser's licking to shame. Not that Fraser had ever
bothered to lick him, no, no. It had been so long that Ray just
melted into the bed and let the guy work.
Turnbull was obsessed with his
hands and kept coming back from whatever he was doing to suck on Ray's
fingers. For some reason, though Ray'd never found them to be a hot
spot before, that warm, wet mouth around his digits really turned the
old crank. Then Turnbull would jump to his nipples or down to
stroke his balls before coming back to one of his hands. It could
have been the alcohol, but he felt like his thermostat was set on
120. After several minutes of this, Ray couldn't take it anymore.
"Quit dicking around and just do me
already!" he yelled.
"Why certainly, Ray!" Turnbull
replied in that uber smiling way of his.
Before Ray could say
"holyfuckinghell" the big Mountie flipped him over and leaned down off
the bed to pull a small container of lube from one of the pockets on
his belt. Somehow, Ray didn't think that was standard
issue. Big strong hands pulled his hips up and slid a pillow
underneath them. Ray sighed as his hard flesh sank into the cool
cotton. It didn't take a few seconds before he started rocking
his hips forward.
"Now, now, Ray. Patience,"
Turnbull said laying a hand on his ass to still his movements.
"Well, if you'd get on with it!"
The only reply he received was a
small kiss to his right ass cheek and the cool touch of lube. He
spread his legs a bit and groaned as the Mountie prepared him.
Man, it had been a while since anyone had touched him there, but the
body remembers. Despite his protests, Ray was glad that Turnbull
had slowed down. After all, the guy was big all over, he was
probably big... Ray turned his head to peek over his shoulder
because he hadn't bothered to look before.
"Whoa..." he whispered.
Turnbull looked up from what he was
doing and saw where Ray's eyes were stuck. He blushed a bit and
said, "Thank you."
Ray shook his head at this
weirdness. For not the first time he wondered if all Canadians
were freaks, or just the ones they sent to the States. Then all
thought left his mind as Turnbull plunged those big, blunt fingers
deeper. It didn't take him long before Ray was swearing and
panting into the duvet, because lord knows you couldn't call the blue
monstrosity on the bed anything but. When Turnbull's fingers left
him, he whimpered like a little puppy, something he'd later blame on
the alcohol. The Mountie again reached for the belt and came back
with a condom. Ray started to wonder if they had a pocket for
everything, and knowing Fraser, they probably did.
Turnbull's hands returned to his
ass, which he wasn't complaining about one bit, and started to massage
his gluts. This went on for a few more moments before he heard
Turnbull whisper, "Now just relax Ray."
His whole focus narrowed to one
spot, it cut through the alcohol, the questions, regrets,
everything. God, it felt so good. Ray let out a breath he
didn't realize he was holding and grunted until Turnbull was perfectly
seated deep inside him. He looked over and saw strong arms
bulging to hold the big Mountie above him. Ray shifted his hips
back and they both drew in air in a quick gasp.
"Good Lord!" Turnbull whispered
with awe.
"Move, please, God, Turnbull..."
And that was all it took. In
and out, the strokes came quick. Ray reached his arms above his
head for something to hold on to. His fingers scrambled with the
lace and pillows and the duvet. Turnbull's strokes got longer and
faster moving Ray's hips into the slick cotton of the pillow.
Suddenly, it was Mr. Toad's wild ride and Ray wasn't sure he ever
wanted to get off, but get off he did.
With a long drawn out "Fuuuck!" Ray
came. Turnbull buried his face into Ray's hair and moaned.
Two more quick thrusts, and the Mountie lost it too. The big
strong arms gave out and Turnbull flopped on top of him with a self
satisfied grunt. They both lay there panting and blissed out for
a moment before Turnbull slid off of him. The cool Consulate air
conditioning struck his sweaty skin and Ray shivered a bit. The
bed dipped and he heard Turnbull move away. Ray started to drift
off when he heard water running. He was almost asleep when he
felt the bed dip again and something warm and wet clean him up.
Turnbull whispered with a horse
voice, "It's all right, Ray. I won't tell Constable Fraser."
"Muh," he replied eloquently and
pulled the big warm man back around him.
"You're welcome," Turnbull said a
bit smugly and cuddled him until he was fast asleep.
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