A Good Morning at the Consulate
by nona

“Good morning, this is Constable Fraser, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Benny,” drawled the sweet streetwise Chicago voice over the phone line.

Fraser closed his eyes and felt a hot rush of pleasure wash over him. Just as he opened his mouth to sigh his lover’s name, the door to his office flew open. The breeze from the force of it ruffled the thin leaves of the open desk calendar. Offended by the unwelcome intrusion, Fraser raised his head to look into the hazel eyes of Inspector Thatcher. She stood in the doorway clutching a few papers in her hand as she stared in at him.

“Benny…” sang the voice in his ear.

“Who is that, Fraser?” she asked curtly indicating to the telephone caller.

In his heart, Fraser knew he should have merely hung up the phone and claimed it was a wrong number. Yes, he knew he should have, but his mouth worked and the words came before he could stop himself.

“Canada is not only famous for its hockey, but also for its art and cultural history.”

Fraser looked at Thatcher as he spoke and was pleased to see her face relax.

Maybe, he thought, if he made her believe it was an official Canadian interest call, she would leave him in peace. But she didn’t move. She merely glared at him, and waited impatiently.

“Cultural history, huh?” asked the sexy voice on the phone.

Once Ray heard him say that, he knew Dragon Lady was in the vicinity and he knew exactly how he was going to play the Mountie.

“Well then, Mr. Canada,” Ray began. “What are you wearing?”

Fraser cleared his throat and taking a glance down he tried to describe himself.

“As a Mountie, we are required to wear many different uniforms. The most notable one is the red serge and black riding pants. Although today I am wearing my browns.”

Ray grinned to himself, and made himself more comfortable in his seat. He had yanked that brown uniform off Fraser’s body many many times in his haste to get at the sweet pale Canadian beneath. It was so much easier getting him out of that one than it was getting him out of the red one.

“And,” Ray continued saucily, “you’re getting hard just listening to my voice…aren’t you?”

Guiltily averting his eyes from Thatcher who still stood in the doorway, he could feel himself stiffening. He could feel that familiar sensation of weakness flush through him.

Please, no, Ray, he pleaded silently although he was already intrigued by the potential of the conversation.

“Yes, sir,” he said trying hard to keep his voice from wavering. “I am. Very.”

Thatcher frowned and folded her arms. He was taking a very long time with some strange person on the other end of the line and she was losing her patience.

“Sir!” Ray smiled. “I like that. Answer the question, Benny. I want you to say it.”

Say it in front of her, he added silently.

He heard Fraser clear his throat again.

“It’s –ah- quite hard… sir,” Fraser paused. “Although not impossible to join the RCMP.”

Fraser grinned at the receiver, pleased with his clever retort.

“Are you dripping hard for me, Benny?” Ray went on without pause. “Are you thinking about how I felt you up last night?”

Fraser bit down the groan that threatened at the back of his throat.

“I am… and the rainfall in Canada is… quite abundant. That accounts for our lush green scenery.”

Ray laughed. Something about putting Fraser in such an awkward position aroused him and he wanted to prolong the Mountie’s agony even further. But, poor Benny, he thought and closed his eyes to imagine the blush he knew was spreading over the Mountie’s handsome features.

“You got on your knees for me last night, Benny. Remember that?”

“Yes, sir. I did.”

“You sucked me off and when I came in your mouth, you liked it, didn’t you. You nearly came, yourself.”

Fraser shuddered embarrassed because he was sure his arousal was plainly evident on his face. His erection throbbed like a hot coal between his tensed thighs and though he hated doing it in front of his boss, he slipped his hand down beneath the desk and into his lap and rubbed it a little to take the edge off. He had to do it, or else lose his mind.

“Fraser.”

This from Thatcher and she sounded impatient and angry. Which, by the way was nothing new.

“Yes, sir. I did,” Fraser continued, speaking into the mouthpiece. “And as a Canadian and a Mountie, I am more than willing to serve my country, and you.”

“Fraser!” Thatcher said coming closer to his desk.

She was tired of waiting for him to get off the phone and she was curious as to why the man was blushing so heatedly all of a sudden. Fraser looked up to meet her eyes and leaned back in the chair hoping she wouldn’t hear Ray’s excited voice over the receiver.

“I’m so hard for you Benny. I wanna fuck you right now. Give it to you hard. And you’ll take it like the little Mountie slut that you are. I’ll get you on your back, spread those legs and you’re as willing as a two dollar whore. Aren’t you, Benny-love.”

“Yesss,” Fraser bit his lip for he had not meant to moan that word.

He heard Ray chuckle complacently and he rubbed his cock a little harder. Every stroke of his fingers sent little jolts through him and he knew if he didn’t stop soon, he wasn’t going to be able to control himself.

“You know, Benny,” Ray sounded thoughtful. “When you come while I’m fucking you, you roll your eyes back in your head and all I see are the whites. My God… that—“

The phone suddenly clicked in his ear.

“Fraser, what was that all about?” Thatcher demanded once Fraser finally pried his moist trembling fingers from about the receiver he’d slammed down.

Breathlessly, Fraser lied.

“Nothing, sir.”

“You look strangely out of sorts for that to be nothing, Constable!” she cried.

“He’d… he’d inquired about the RCMP and Canada.” Fraser attempted. “But he’d gone on to say some… inappropriate things. I had to terminate the conversation.”

He gave to her, his most honest Mountie look as she stared disgustedly at him. She waved her hand at him and as she shook her head.

“You need to read and sign these,” she said after a moment and then tossed the papers onto his desk.

With that she turned on heel to leave and firmly shut the door behind her. Fraser collapsed back in the chair and stared down with a bit of wonder at the hard-on Ray had coaxed from him. And then he sat there a moment longer trying to decide what to do with it. He then swiveled in the chair, pushed aside the curtain and peeked out of the window. He saw the familiar emerald 1972 Buick Riviera waiting at the curb out front. Apparently the decision had already been made for him. And he had no objection. He signed the papers, left them with Turnbull and took an early lunch.

--end