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ds_flashfictionI received several complaints after my offering to the threesome challenge, asking what happened next. Here's the answer. I'm including the first part again, so people don't have to go searching for it. And, of course, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kassrachel's comments and corrections helped improve the story immensely. Thanks, darlin'!
Combining R. Kowalski, B. Fraser, and R. Turnbull, weighing in at 3,530 words, and ever so NC-17, here's
He could see it in his eyes. The moment Ray stepped through the heavy front door and sauntered – there really was no other word for that movement – up to the desk, cocked – dear God, how quickly his mind plummeted into the gutter – his head to one side and said, “Hey, Turnbull. Fraser in his office?” he knew exactly what would happen.
Fortunately, he had not risen from his chair, so his burgeoning erection remained hidden behind the dubious shield of an inch of oak, not to mention his trousers and tunic.
“Good afternoon, Ray.” He smiled, just to see Ray’s lips curl in response, see the tiny web of wrinkles – laugh lines would perhaps be a better description – appear at the corner of Ray’s eyes, see the sparkle in Ray’s glance – a glance that wasn’t for him, but a fellow could dream, couldn’t he? Behind the desk, his erection lengthened, as if reaching out to Ray, to those long hands, strong fingered. “Yes, Constable Fraser is in his office.”
He would give almost anything to be there, on the inside, with them.
But Ray – an excellent detective, really, but it was not surprising that Ray had no idea of the nature of his thoughts – indeed very few people considered him capable of thought at all, much less these sorts of thoughts – simply flapped a hand at him and said “Greatness.”
His eyes followed Ray, sliding down the length of his back to survey the play of muscles beneath his trousers – short jackets had certain benefits, despite their uselessness in climatically challenging situations – as he walked toward Constable Fraser’s office. Before he entered the office, before closing the door behind him, Ray favoured him with a brief glance, a flash of teeth that suddenly inhibited his breathing and caused his erection to throb even more than before.
Pressing his palms against the smooth surface of the desk, he stared at his whitening fingertips. What can’t be cured, must be endured. One of his grandmother’s many words of wisdom, and entirely appropriate to the situation. Endure he must, despite the discomfort of damp underwear, and an ache split between his groin and a spot located behind his sternum – not that he believed in the cliché of a broken heart, but there were moments when he would swear that something was being shredded in his chest.
Hands slowly clenched – how he could even contemplate stroking himself, succumbing to pleasure, to desire, while on duty, in public – he straightened his shoulders and tried not to imagine what Ray and Constable Fraser were doing behind that closed door.
Exceptionally sharp hearing could be an advantage, except at times like these, when muffled cries and a dull thud – a body thrust – dear Lord, his mind again – against the thick door, rhythmic susurrations hinting at clothing pushed aside, moist flesh rubbing against flesh, lips bitten in a vain attempt to stifle groans...
His head jerked up as the door opened and he turned toward it like a compass needle to magnetic north. Ray stood in the doorway, lips red, open shirt framing his heaving chest, the front of his trousers gaping in a vee, arrowing down toward...
He forced his eyes up. Standing behind Ray, Constable Fraser smiled, his hands stealing around Ray’s torso to rest on that panting stomach in a proprietary gesture that even an idiot like himself could understand. ‘Mine,’ it screamed, in glaring neon script. ‘Keep off.’
When he turned away, it physically hurt – but in all honesty, that was his own fault, for wanting what was not his, what was as far beyond his reach as the moon to a child – and yet the casual cruelty surprised him, for he never suspected that Constable Fraser hated him enough to hold the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world – even more than a brain that worked like everyone else’s – dangling this one thing in front of him forever out of his reach.
“Turnbull.”
Ray’s husky voice could not be ignored, even if he were capable of more self-control, which was obviously not the case – his underwear chafed his erection almost painfully – surely his just desserts? He looked at Ray, pliant and warm and open in more ways than he could imagine, wincing as the ache under his breastbone sharpened, piercing him deep.
“Ren, c’mere.”
He forgot to breathe as Ray’s head fell back against Constable Fraser’s shoulder and Constable Fraser’s fingers slid into the waistband of Ray’s open trousers. When Ray groaned softly, he gasped, sucking in air with as much desperation as a drowning man who briefly surfaces from the waves.
Ray beckoned. “C’mon. Join us.”
Him?
Legs as weak and uncoordinated as a baby’s, he stood – surely there was some mistake, some other Ren in the room – but Ray smiled at him, met his eyes, and opened his arms.
This time when the door closed, he found himself on the inside.
***
He stood stiffly – it was his spine that was stiff, of course. Not that he wasn’t stiff in another area, but surely Ray couldn’t, and Constable Fraser wouldn’t, be concerned about that. There were still – he glanced at the clock – forty-two seconds left before his workday ended, and despite the promise inherent in Ray’s smile and open arms, Constable Fraser must have some official task or other in mind for him.
Not to welcome him, to let him be with them, not like he wished, had dreamed of for so many—
“Ren?”
He blinked, focused, brought his attention to bear on…
Ray. Whose hand was, for some unfathomable reason, cupping his cheek – oh Lord, his fingers were so warm and gentle, and he—
“Ren? You okay with this?”
Every drop of moisture in his mouth evaporated. He licked his lips, and Ray’s eyes widened slightly, the heat in that gaze almost scorching him. Glancing over at Constable Fraser, standing immediately behind Ray, he was surprised – shocked even – to see a corresponding heat in Constable Fraser’s eyes.
“I, uh, I’m...” Quickly, he must know, before they grew impatient or tired of him. “What is your definition of ‘this,’ Ray?”
“My definition?” Ray laughed and glanced at Constable Fraser. “What would you say ‘this’ is, Ben?”
Ben? Since when did Ray – this Ray, that is – ever call Constable Fraser by his first name? And since when did Constable Fraser ever smile at him – at Renfield Turnbull – in such a... a... what looked terribly like a lewd and lascivious manner?
The universe had obviously turned on its head and he was, as usual, unaware of the fact until the new reality slapped him on the face, but no, it wasn’t reality, it was simply Ray, stroking his cheek.
Constable Fraser rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “I would say that ‘this’ is a proposition, Ray.”
His heart flip-flopped disconcertingly as Ray’s fingers stroked his neck, just above the collar of his tunic, and Ray winked at Constable Fraser. “Yep. That’s what I’d say, too. So, Ren, what do you say to being propositioned?”
That he could answer.
“Yes, please, Ray.”
The next thing he knew he was leaning back in the front seat of Ray’s car, his Hat on his knees, Ray’s hand massaging his left thigh and Constable Fraser’s lips close to his left ear. Constable Fraser was probably sitting so close in order to keep an eye on Ray’s hand and where it was placed, but honestly, he wasn’t inclined to quibble about the reason for that delicious warmth against his ear.
Then, while the car stood alone at a stoplight, Constable Fraser licked his ear, and Ray slid his hand a little higher.
He didn’t really levitate, although it certainly felt as if he had lifted a good 14.7 centimeters, and both Ray and Constable Fraser had laughed – gently, not in a mocking way – and pressed him back into the seat.
“Hang on, Ren.” Ray gave him a pat and removed his hand, leaving a cold spot on his thigh. “We’re nearly there.”
His knees liquefied at the thought of walking into Ray’s apartment, casually walking in as if he belonged there, and then... What? He knew what he would like to happen – he was slow and clumsy, but not entirely innocent – but what would Ray want? Not to mention Constable Fraser? Would they ask him to do things and then tell him to leave?
No. Ray wasn’t like that, and Constable Fraser, although often impatient and annoyed with him, wouldn’t be so cruel. They would be kind to him, perhaps even asking him, eventually, what he wished – oh, he had so many wishes, so many dreams, that it would take far longer than one night to do even a few of them – but then again, he shouldn’t be greedy. Here he was, being given an opportunity he’d never even dreamed of – well, yes, he had dreamed of this, but in a heart’s-desire way, not in a this-might-possibly-happen way – and he must remember everything so that when he was alone again in his narrow bed he could take out his hoarded memories, like a glittering treasure, and warm himself by their faint heat. No, not heat, light, perhaps? Or maybe he should have used another image, one that better reflected—
“Turnbull,” said Constable Fraser. “We’re here.”
Ray was already out of the driver’s seat, so he quickly exited, banging his head once on the door frame, but managing not to dent or crush his Hat. Constable Fraser and Dief emerged smoothly, and he wished he had that grace of movement, a certain economy of—
“Let’s go.” Ray propelled him forward and he tried not to think about where he was going and what he was going – he fervently hoped – to do. Across the parking lot, up the stairs, wait, almost choking with anticipation, while Ray unlocked the door, and then they were inside.
He stood in the foyer, his hands numb, his brain reeling. What on earth should he do now?
Ray stepped forward, pulled his head down, and kissed him.
He’d never been kissed like that, had hardly ever been kissed before, unless you counted his mother and sisters and Aunty Marge, who had a small moustache and breath that smelled of peppermint, and no, he didn’t count them, not after feeling the demands of Ray’s kiss, demands that he let go, let Ray take him wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted.
When Ray gently pulled back and ran warm fingers over his tender lips, well, could he be blamed for licking them, just a little? Ray’s groan took him by surprise, and so did the fact that somehow Constable Fraser had unfastened and removed both their tunics, and was now on his knees – and dear Lord, he hadn’t thought it possible for his aching erection to grow even harder, but it did at the sight of Constable Fraser kneeling to unlace his – a subordinate, an inferior – his very own boots, and he swayed and reached out to the wall, desperate for support.
Ray shucked his jacket and tugged his tee-shirt over his head, then toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and as he stared at Ray, all he could do was lean against the wall and lift his legs at Constable Fraser’s urging, feeling the heavy boots slide off his feet, but his eyes never left Ray’s bare chest, almost luminescent in the dim light, all smooth skin and lean muscles, with a tiny hint of softness just before the dark line of the waistband.
And then before he knew it, they were in Ray’s bedroom, Ray in jeans, Constable Fraser in Henley and socks and crisp boxers, and he was clothed only in the press of hands and arms and lips, but surprisingly he didn’t feel embarrassed.
They steered him toward the bed, but when he would have crawled onto the mattress, Ray stopped him with a hand planted in the center of his chest.
“Hang on a sec. I want to get these jeans off.”
Strong hands turned him and he faced Constable Fraser, who smiled up at him in a way that wasn’t at all irritated. It was, in fact, very similar to the lewd and lascivious look he had seen on Constable Fraser’s face earlier in the evening.
He cleared his throat. “Constable Fr—”
“Turnbull. Ren. Under the circumstances, it would hardly be appropriate for you to use my official rank. You may address me as Benton. Or Ben.”
He blinked twice and bit his lip because honestly, he’d never expected Constable Fraser – Ben – to ask to be addressed so casually, although he supposed that, given the circumstances and the fact that he was standing in Ray’s bedroom naked, with Ray peeling off his jeans, and Const – Ben – cradling his jaw in his hands and leaning up to...
Different than Ray’s kiss, and yes, he would be able to tell them apart, but it was still good, entirely delightful in its own way. Who knew that Const – Ben – would have such skill, but then again, Ben – there, he’d been able to think it without hiccupping – was able to turn his hand, or tongue, to anything he wished.
Warm hands pulled him backward, and he didn’t want to break their kiss, so his hands tightened on Ben’s arms, tugging him along in his wake.
Ray laughed, and his arms wrapped around his chest. “Let go, so Ben can get out of his shirt.”
He moaned, just a little, but obeyed Ray. Ray’s arms tugged him back, pressed his back against Ray’s chest, and then Ray shifted. Dear Lord, was that Ray’s erection pressing against his backside? He shifted on the bed and Ray gasped. “Wait a sec. I want to watch Ben, and you’re distracting me.”
He’d never been a distraction, at least, not in a good way, but he stilled and tentatively rested his head against Ray’s shoulder. Ray hummed in his ear, sliding his hands over his chest, and then he looked up.
Ben had pulled off his Henley and socks, and stood before them in his boxers. Like their kisses, he was physically different than Ray, but just as attractive and appealing. Ray’s erection twitched, as did his own, and the front of Ben’s boxers was damp, so he must be as aroused as they.
“Get ‘em off, Ben.” Ray’s voice was practically a growl in his ear, and Ray’s hands caressed his chest, suddenly rubbing and pinching his nipples and he sucked in his breath in surprise at just how good that felt, and his eyes began to close but he forced him open because Ben had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers and was lowering them very, very slowly and he didn’t want to miss a second of this sweet torture.
“You’re a damn tease,” said Ray. “Two can play at that game.”
Before he could do so much as blink, Ray had somehow twisted them both around and Ray’s firm fingers were stroking his erection and he let out a strangled cry because really, it was too much to expect a man who had dreamed of this to experience it without some sort of vocal response. And then another pair of hands were stroking his flanks and thighs and traveling over his backside and Ray was kissing him and Ben was...
Oh, dear Lord, so that’s what that felt like.
Then Ray pulled away, but Ben certainly didn’t and he really thought that the top of his head would simply explode from the surfeit of stimulation and how on earth could anyone feel this good and what had he ever done to deserve it?
Not that he particularly cared at the moment.
Ray’s voice rang in his head, and someone laughed, and then Ben’s tongue and fingers retreated enough that he could string two thoughts together. Ray was indeed speaking to him, so he took a deep breath and tried very hard to ignore the echoes of pleasure ringing through his body and to listen.
“You want to fuck me?”
He had to hurriedly reach down and grab his erection to prevent embarrassing himself because the thought of what Ray had suggested threatened to topple him right over the edge although he really, really wanted to.
“Yes.”
That was all he could manage before Ray twisted away for a moment and then returned with a small bottle and two foil packages that he recognized, but only because he’d seen other men proudly display them in their billfolds.
Ben’s hands covered his, loosening his fingers and replacing them, holding him tightly, but not too uncomfortably, which allowed him to stroke Ray’s softly furred thigh and try to control his stuttering breath.
Then Ben licked the edge of his ear and said, “May I penetrate you, Ren?”
Thankfully Ben immediately squeezed his testicles, otherwise the evening would have ended early, and although he’d never really thought about being penetrated before, the idea was incredibly appealing, especially after what Ben had been doing just moments before.
He nodded, trying not to shiver in excitement and anticipation.
Ben murmured “Thank you kindly” and took the packet that Ray handed him.
But... He looked at Ray. “I though you wanted me to...”
Ray grinned. “Yeah. You in me, Ben in you, like a chain.”
He whimpered at the mental image, and blessed Ben’s uncanny ability to anticipate his reactions, although his testicles were becoming very sore and terribly sensitive from all the clutching and pulling.
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Me first, I think.”
“Right you are, Ray.” Ben sounded amused.
Dropping the packet on the bed, Ray took his hand and squeezed some of the unguent onto his fingers, then rolled onto his side and looked back over his shoulder. “Okay, Ren. Go for it.”
It really was... remarkable, how hot and smooth Ray was, and how slight changes in direction and pressure could elicit such... strong responses. One particular combination of stroking and circling made Ray cry out so loudly that he was momentarily taken aback, until Ben gently touched his hip and said “I think Ray’s perfectly prepared now,” and then showed him how to sheathe and lubricate his own erection without bringing about an unexpected climax.
And then, at both Ray’s and Ben’s urging, he carefully, teeth-grittingly slowly, slid inside Ray and understood, all in a flash, just how important this was and how close it brought people together, and then he had to stop that train of thought, because Ben had resumed his attentions, and he also understood just why Ray had writhed and moaned, his skin growing damp and heated, because the same thing was happening to him. Only he couldn’t move much, pressed as he was deep inside Ray, and when Ben slipped into him, he was surrounded, inside out and outside in, by strong arms and warm bodies filled with great kindness and hearts so large he would never be able to describe them adequately.
Finally, Ben’s hips settled against his backside, and Ben whispered “You can move, Ren,” so he did. He moved, Ray moved, Ben moved. Back and forth, hitting and retreating, sliding in and gliding out, over and over until he was mesmerized by the rhythm, the sharp pleasure, the overwhelming connection between all three of them. And when he tumbled over the precipice, he was not alone, because Ray shuddered and called his name, and Ben pressed home once, twice, and joined them as they tumbled, out of control, down the slope to finally, finally, come to rest at the bottom.
He was still panting, enjoying the aftershocks, the pleasurable buzz that vibrated along his nerves, when Ray and Ben gently disengaged, and he moaned out “No,” suddenly cut with the sense of loss, with the fact that it was over and he would be left on the outside again.
Ray, propped up on an elbow and looking down at him, grinned.
“Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday,” he said. “Cause I’ve still got a bunch of things I want to do with you. How ‘bout you, Ben?”
Ben’s face swam into view beside Ray’s. “I’m sure there’s some overlap, but yes, I have my own list of desires that involve both you and Ren.”
“That’s what I thought,” Ray said. “And I’ll bet Ren has a few of his own. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“Looks to me,” continued Ray, his expression growing solemn, “like one weekend’s not going to be long enough. You willing to hang around for a while, Ren?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried, with great difficulty, to swallow past the lump in his throat. But Ray had asked him a question, and it wouldn’t be polite for him to hesitate long before answering, so he opened his eyes and gave a rather watery smile.
“Thank you, yes, please, Ray. And Ben.”
“Greatness.” Ray gave both him and Ben a quick kiss, then clambered off the bed. “I’m starving. What do you guys want on your pizza?”
He stared at the ceiling. Pizza. Would Ray and Ben find it odd if he asked for ratatouille on his?
kassrachel's comments and corrections helped improve the story immensely. Thanks, darlin'!Combining R. Kowalski, B. Fraser, and R. Turnbull, weighing in at 3,530 words, and ever so NC-17, here's
He could see it in his eyes. The moment Ray stepped through the heavy front door and sauntered – there really was no other word for that movement – up to the desk, cocked – dear God, how quickly his mind plummeted into the gutter – his head to one side and said, “Hey, Turnbull. Fraser in his office?” he knew exactly what would happen.
Fortunately, he had not risen from his chair, so his burgeoning erection remained hidden behind the dubious shield of an inch of oak, not to mention his trousers and tunic.
“Good afternoon, Ray.” He smiled, just to see Ray’s lips curl in response, see the tiny web of wrinkles – laugh lines would perhaps be a better description – appear at the corner of Ray’s eyes, see the sparkle in Ray’s glance – a glance that wasn’t for him, but a fellow could dream, couldn’t he? Behind the desk, his erection lengthened, as if reaching out to Ray, to those long hands, strong fingered. “Yes, Constable Fraser is in his office.”
He would give almost anything to be there, on the inside, with them.
But Ray – an excellent detective, really, but it was not surprising that Ray had no idea of the nature of his thoughts – indeed very few people considered him capable of thought at all, much less these sorts of thoughts – simply flapped a hand at him and said “Greatness.”
His eyes followed Ray, sliding down the length of his back to survey the play of muscles beneath his trousers – short jackets had certain benefits, despite their uselessness in climatically challenging situations – as he walked toward Constable Fraser’s office. Before he entered the office, before closing the door behind him, Ray favoured him with a brief glance, a flash of teeth that suddenly inhibited his breathing and caused his erection to throb even more than before.
Pressing his palms against the smooth surface of the desk, he stared at his whitening fingertips. What can’t be cured, must be endured. One of his grandmother’s many words of wisdom, and entirely appropriate to the situation. Endure he must, despite the discomfort of damp underwear, and an ache split between his groin and a spot located behind his sternum – not that he believed in the cliché of a broken heart, but there were moments when he would swear that something was being shredded in his chest.
Hands slowly clenched – how he could even contemplate stroking himself, succumbing to pleasure, to desire, while on duty, in public – he straightened his shoulders and tried not to imagine what Ray and Constable Fraser were doing behind that closed door.
Exceptionally sharp hearing could be an advantage, except at times like these, when muffled cries and a dull thud – a body thrust – dear Lord, his mind again – against the thick door, rhythmic susurrations hinting at clothing pushed aside, moist flesh rubbing against flesh, lips bitten in a vain attempt to stifle groans...
His head jerked up as the door opened and he turned toward it like a compass needle to magnetic north. Ray stood in the doorway, lips red, open shirt framing his heaving chest, the front of his trousers gaping in a vee, arrowing down toward...
He forced his eyes up. Standing behind Ray, Constable Fraser smiled, his hands stealing around Ray’s torso to rest on that panting stomach in a proprietary gesture that even an idiot like himself could understand. ‘Mine,’ it screamed, in glaring neon script. ‘Keep off.’
When he turned away, it physically hurt – but in all honesty, that was his own fault, for wanting what was not his, what was as far beyond his reach as the moon to a child – and yet the casual cruelty surprised him, for he never suspected that Constable Fraser hated him enough to hold the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world – even more than a brain that worked like everyone else’s – dangling this one thing in front of him forever out of his reach.
“Turnbull.”
Ray’s husky voice could not be ignored, even if he were capable of more self-control, which was obviously not the case – his underwear chafed his erection almost painfully – surely his just desserts? He looked at Ray, pliant and warm and open in more ways than he could imagine, wincing as the ache under his breastbone sharpened, piercing him deep.
“Ren, c’mere.”
He forgot to breathe as Ray’s head fell back against Constable Fraser’s shoulder and Constable Fraser’s fingers slid into the waistband of Ray’s open trousers. When Ray groaned softly, he gasped, sucking in air with as much desperation as a drowning man who briefly surfaces from the waves.
Ray beckoned. “C’mon. Join us.”
Him?
Legs as weak and uncoordinated as a baby’s, he stood – surely there was some mistake, some other Ren in the room – but Ray smiled at him, met his eyes, and opened his arms.
This time when the door closed, he found himself on the inside.
***
He stood stiffly – it was his spine that was stiff, of course. Not that he wasn’t stiff in another area, but surely Ray couldn’t, and Constable Fraser wouldn’t, be concerned about that. There were still – he glanced at the clock – forty-two seconds left before his workday ended, and despite the promise inherent in Ray’s smile and open arms, Constable Fraser must have some official task or other in mind for him.
Not to welcome him, to let him be with them, not like he wished, had dreamed of for so many—
“Ren?”
He blinked, focused, brought his attention to bear on…
Ray. Whose hand was, for some unfathomable reason, cupping his cheek – oh Lord, his fingers were so warm and gentle, and he—
“Ren? You okay with this?”
Every drop of moisture in his mouth evaporated. He licked his lips, and Ray’s eyes widened slightly, the heat in that gaze almost scorching him. Glancing over at Constable Fraser, standing immediately behind Ray, he was surprised – shocked even – to see a corresponding heat in Constable Fraser’s eyes.
“I, uh, I’m...” Quickly, he must know, before they grew impatient or tired of him. “What is your definition of ‘this,’ Ray?”
“My definition?” Ray laughed and glanced at Constable Fraser. “What would you say ‘this’ is, Ben?”
Ben? Since when did Ray – this Ray, that is – ever call Constable Fraser by his first name? And since when did Constable Fraser ever smile at him – at Renfield Turnbull – in such a... a... what looked terribly like a lewd and lascivious manner?
The universe had obviously turned on its head and he was, as usual, unaware of the fact until the new reality slapped him on the face, but no, it wasn’t reality, it was simply Ray, stroking his cheek.
Constable Fraser rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “I would say that ‘this’ is a proposition, Ray.”
His heart flip-flopped disconcertingly as Ray’s fingers stroked his neck, just above the collar of his tunic, and Ray winked at Constable Fraser. “Yep. That’s what I’d say, too. So, Ren, what do you say to being propositioned?”
That he could answer.
“Yes, please, Ray.”
The next thing he knew he was leaning back in the front seat of Ray’s car, his Hat on his knees, Ray’s hand massaging his left thigh and Constable Fraser’s lips close to his left ear. Constable Fraser was probably sitting so close in order to keep an eye on Ray’s hand and where it was placed, but honestly, he wasn’t inclined to quibble about the reason for that delicious warmth against his ear.
Then, while the car stood alone at a stoplight, Constable Fraser licked his ear, and Ray slid his hand a little higher.
He didn’t really levitate, although it certainly felt as if he had lifted a good 14.7 centimeters, and both Ray and Constable Fraser had laughed – gently, not in a mocking way – and pressed him back into the seat.
“Hang on, Ren.” Ray gave him a pat and removed his hand, leaving a cold spot on his thigh. “We’re nearly there.”
His knees liquefied at the thought of walking into Ray’s apartment, casually walking in as if he belonged there, and then... What? He knew what he would like to happen – he was slow and clumsy, but not entirely innocent – but what would Ray want? Not to mention Constable Fraser? Would they ask him to do things and then tell him to leave?
No. Ray wasn’t like that, and Constable Fraser, although often impatient and annoyed with him, wouldn’t be so cruel. They would be kind to him, perhaps even asking him, eventually, what he wished – oh, he had so many wishes, so many dreams, that it would take far longer than one night to do even a few of them – but then again, he shouldn’t be greedy. Here he was, being given an opportunity he’d never even dreamed of – well, yes, he had dreamed of this, but in a heart’s-desire way, not in a this-might-possibly-happen way – and he must remember everything so that when he was alone again in his narrow bed he could take out his hoarded memories, like a glittering treasure, and warm himself by their faint heat. No, not heat, light, perhaps? Or maybe he should have used another image, one that better reflected—
“Turnbull,” said Constable Fraser. “We’re here.”
Ray was already out of the driver’s seat, so he quickly exited, banging his head once on the door frame, but managing not to dent or crush his Hat. Constable Fraser and Dief emerged smoothly, and he wished he had that grace of movement, a certain economy of—
“Let’s go.” Ray propelled him forward and he tried not to think about where he was going and what he was going – he fervently hoped – to do. Across the parking lot, up the stairs, wait, almost choking with anticipation, while Ray unlocked the door, and then they were inside.
He stood in the foyer, his hands numb, his brain reeling. What on earth should he do now?
Ray stepped forward, pulled his head down, and kissed him.
He’d never been kissed like that, had hardly ever been kissed before, unless you counted his mother and sisters and Aunty Marge, who had a small moustache and breath that smelled of peppermint, and no, he didn’t count them, not after feeling the demands of Ray’s kiss, demands that he let go, let Ray take him wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted.
When Ray gently pulled back and ran warm fingers over his tender lips, well, could he be blamed for licking them, just a little? Ray’s groan took him by surprise, and so did the fact that somehow Constable Fraser had unfastened and removed both their tunics, and was now on his knees – and dear Lord, he hadn’t thought it possible for his aching erection to grow even harder, but it did at the sight of Constable Fraser kneeling to unlace his – a subordinate, an inferior – his very own boots, and he swayed and reached out to the wall, desperate for support.
Ray shucked his jacket and tugged his tee-shirt over his head, then toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and as he stared at Ray, all he could do was lean against the wall and lift his legs at Constable Fraser’s urging, feeling the heavy boots slide off his feet, but his eyes never left Ray’s bare chest, almost luminescent in the dim light, all smooth skin and lean muscles, with a tiny hint of softness just before the dark line of the waistband.
And then before he knew it, they were in Ray’s bedroom, Ray in jeans, Constable Fraser in Henley and socks and crisp boxers, and he was clothed only in the press of hands and arms and lips, but surprisingly he didn’t feel embarrassed.
They steered him toward the bed, but when he would have crawled onto the mattress, Ray stopped him with a hand planted in the center of his chest.
“Hang on a sec. I want to get these jeans off.”
Strong hands turned him and he faced Constable Fraser, who smiled up at him in a way that wasn’t at all irritated. It was, in fact, very similar to the lewd and lascivious look he had seen on Constable Fraser’s face earlier in the evening.
He cleared his throat. “Constable Fr—”
“Turnbull. Ren. Under the circumstances, it would hardly be appropriate for you to use my official rank. You may address me as Benton. Or Ben.”
He blinked twice and bit his lip because honestly, he’d never expected Constable Fraser – Ben – to ask to be addressed so casually, although he supposed that, given the circumstances and the fact that he was standing in Ray’s bedroom naked, with Ray peeling off his jeans, and Const – Ben – cradling his jaw in his hands and leaning up to...
Different than Ray’s kiss, and yes, he would be able to tell them apart, but it was still good, entirely delightful in its own way. Who knew that Const – Ben – would have such skill, but then again, Ben – there, he’d been able to think it without hiccupping – was able to turn his hand, or tongue, to anything he wished.
Warm hands pulled him backward, and he didn’t want to break their kiss, so his hands tightened on Ben’s arms, tugging him along in his wake.
Ray laughed, and his arms wrapped around his chest. “Let go, so Ben can get out of his shirt.”
He moaned, just a little, but obeyed Ray. Ray’s arms tugged him back, pressed his back against Ray’s chest, and then Ray shifted. Dear Lord, was that Ray’s erection pressing against his backside? He shifted on the bed and Ray gasped. “Wait a sec. I want to watch Ben, and you’re distracting me.”
He’d never been a distraction, at least, not in a good way, but he stilled and tentatively rested his head against Ray’s shoulder. Ray hummed in his ear, sliding his hands over his chest, and then he looked up.
Ben had pulled off his Henley and socks, and stood before them in his boxers. Like their kisses, he was physically different than Ray, but just as attractive and appealing. Ray’s erection twitched, as did his own, and the front of Ben’s boxers was damp, so he must be as aroused as they.
“Get ‘em off, Ben.” Ray’s voice was practically a growl in his ear, and Ray’s hands caressed his chest, suddenly rubbing and pinching his nipples and he sucked in his breath in surprise at just how good that felt, and his eyes began to close but he forced him open because Ben had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers and was lowering them very, very slowly and he didn’t want to miss a second of this sweet torture.
“You’re a damn tease,” said Ray. “Two can play at that game.”
Before he could do so much as blink, Ray had somehow twisted them both around and Ray’s firm fingers were stroking his erection and he let out a strangled cry because really, it was too much to expect a man who had dreamed of this to experience it without some sort of vocal response. And then another pair of hands were stroking his flanks and thighs and traveling over his backside and Ray was kissing him and Ben was...
Oh, dear Lord, so that’s what that felt like.
Then Ray pulled away, but Ben certainly didn’t and he really thought that the top of his head would simply explode from the surfeit of stimulation and how on earth could anyone feel this good and what had he ever done to deserve it?
Not that he particularly cared at the moment.
Ray’s voice rang in his head, and someone laughed, and then Ben’s tongue and fingers retreated enough that he could string two thoughts together. Ray was indeed speaking to him, so he took a deep breath and tried very hard to ignore the echoes of pleasure ringing through his body and to listen.
“You want to fuck me?”
He had to hurriedly reach down and grab his erection to prevent embarrassing himself because the thought of what Ray had suggested threatened to topple him right over the edge although he really, really wanted to.
“Yes.”
That was all he could manage before Ray twisted away for a moment and then returned with a small bottle and two foil packages that he recognized, but only because he’d seen other men proudly display them in their billfolds.
Ben’s hands covered his, loosening his fingers and replacing them, holding him tightly, but not too uncomfortably, which allowed him to stroke Ray’s softly furred thigh and try to control his stuttering breath.
Then Ben licked the edge of his ear and said, “May I penetrate you, Ren?”
Thankfully Ben immediately squeezed his testicles, otherwise the evening would have ended early, and although he’d never really thought about being penetrated before, the idea was incredibly appealing, especially after what Ben had been doing just moments before.
He nodded, trying not to shiver in excitement and anticipation.
Ben murmured “Thank you kindly” and took the packet that Ray handed him.
But... He looked at Ray. “I though you wanted me to...”
Ray grinned. “Yeah. You in me, Ben in you, like a chain.”
He whimpered at the mental image, and blessed Ben’s uncanny ability to anticipate his reactions, although his testicles were becoming very sore and terribly sensitive from all the clutching and pulling.
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Me first, I think.”
“Right you are, Ray.” Ben sounded amused.
Dropping the packet on the bed, Ray took his hand and squeezed some of the unguent onto his fingers, then rolled onto his side and looked back over his shoulder. “Okay, Ren. Go for it.”
It really was... remarkable, how hot and smooth Ray was, and how slight changes in direction and pressure could elicit such... strong responses. One particular combination of stroking and circling made Ray cry out so loudly that he was momentarily taken aback, until Ben gently touched his hip and said “I think Ray’s perfectly prepared now,” and then showed him how to sheathe and lubricate his own erection without bringing about an unexpected climax.
And then, at both Ray’s and Ben’s urging, he carefully, teeth-grittingly slowly, slid inside Ray and understood, all in a flash, just how important this was and how close it brought people together, and then he had to stop that train of thought, because Ben had resumed his attentions, and he also understood just why Ray had writhed and moaned, his skin growing damp and heated, because the same thing was happening to him. Only he couldn’t move much, pressed as he was deep inside Ray, and when Ben slipped into him, he was surrounded, inside out and outside in, by strong arms and warm bodies filled with great kindness and hearts so large he would never be able to describe them adequately.
Finally, Ben’s hips settled against his backside, and Ben whispered “You can move, Ren,” so he did. He moved, Ray moved, Ben moved. Back and forth, hitting and retreating, sliding in and gliding out, over and over until he was mesmerized by the rhythm, the sharp pleasure, the overwhelming connection between all three of them. And when he tumbled over the precipice, he was not alone, because Ray shuddered and called his name, and Ben pressed home once, twice, and joined them as they tumbled, out of control, down the slope to finally, finally, come to rest at the bottom.
He was still panting, enjoying the aftershocks, the pleasurable buzz that vibrated along his nerves, when Ray and Ben gently disengaged, and he moaned out “No,” suddenly cut with the sense of loss, with the fact that it was over and he would be left on the outside again.
Ray, propped up on an elbow and looking down at him, grinned.
“Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday,” he said. “Cause I’ve still got a bunch of things I want to do with you. How ‘bout you, Ben?”
Ben’s face swam into view beside Ray’s. “I’m sure there’s some overlap, but yes, I have my own list of desires that involve both you and Ren.”
“That’s what I thought,” Ray said. “And I’ll bet Ren has a few of his own. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“Looks to me,” continued Ray, his expression growing solemn, “like one weekend’s not going to be long enough. You willing to hang around for a while, Ren?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried, with great difficulty, to swallow past the lump in his throat. But Ray had asked him a question, and it wouldn’t be polite for him to hesitate long before answering, so he opened his eyes and gave a rather watery smile.
“Thank you, yes, please, Ray. And Ben.”
“Greatness.” Ray gave both him and Ben a quick kiss, then clambered off the bed. “I’m starving. What do you guys want on your pizza?”
He stared at the ceiling. Pizza. Would Ray and Ben find it odd if he asked for ratatouille on his?
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-22 04:14 pm (UTC)*goes back and rereads*
*wipes drool from chin*
Oh my. That was......Ok. I'll be back in a minute. have to go find some ice to chew on.
And can I just say Thank You?
no subject
Date: 2004-01-22 09:00 pm (UTC)You're welcome!