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ds_flashfiction1383 words. In response to several requests, I bring you the story of Fraser, Ray, the alley, and the cannoli that started it all.
It had been a long week, a long month, and I was ready to spend some quality time with my favorite Mountie. So yeah, I was kinda irritated with the idea of starting my three day weekend running errands for the Ice Queen.
I can understand why she doesn’t trust Turnbull with her dry-cleaning after that run-in with the emu, but any moron can order a cake. I mean, how hard can it be? You go to the bakery, you pick chocolate or yellow cake, chocolate or white frosting, pink or yellow roses, and have them pipe ‘Happy Birthday” on it. I really think Renfield could do it.
But no - Fraser is the only one who can manage this mission for the Crown, so instead of spending the morning getting my brain sucked out through my dick, I’m in some glass temple dedicated to the gods of meringue. Fraser was in a high-powered meeting with the owner, the business manager, two sales clerks, an icing artist, the chief baker and the candlestick maker for all I knew. I think they were debating the placement of every damn rose petal. In the meantime, I’d missed my morning nookie and my breakfast. Looking at the bakery chapter of Fraser’s fan club, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fix the first, but damn if I wasn’t going to take care of the second.
I checked out the contents of the cases and ran into a stumbling block. I didn’t recognize anything! Not a doughnut to be had, not even a cheese danish. Twenty five feet of what looked like Star Trek food was in front of me, full of weird spikes and shapes and fillings in colors that no human could be expected to eat without alcohol or a lot of medication - man, what was that blue stuff? It was too much like that crap they serve in The Stella’s favorite restaurant, where they give you two slivers of something beige and tell you it’s chicken.
The door from the kitchen swung open and I suddenly saw salvation. The only person in the whole place not talking to Fraser was carrying a tray of cannolis - honest to god cannolis stuffed to overflowing and tipped with shaved chocolate, just like Ma Vecchio’s. If they tasted half as good as they looked, it would almost make up for the morning nookie. I bought one - couldn’t believe it cost me six bucks.
Now, there are a couple of right ways to eat a cannoli, and none of them require a fork. All of them are messy, but that’s part of fun. I ran a finger across the tip and scooped up some filling. The texture was right, and after licking my finger clean, decided the taste was worth every penny. Good dark chocolate, real Italian cheese, and plenty of it. I stuck my finger back in, scooped out some more, licked it off. Oh, yeah, this was good.
I kept that up until I cleared enough of the filling to get to the cookie safely, then I nibbled around the edges of the shell. They even got that right. Why in the hell were these people wasting their time making that disgusting blue shit when they could be making these all day? I dipped my tongue in for some more filling and rolled it into my mouth when I realized how quiet everything was.
I looked over at the fan club and saw everyone staring at me. From the disgusted looks on all those faces, I guess this place actually did expect a guy to use a fork. Well, everyone’s face but Fraser’s. I don’t think he was thinking of flatware. Flat maybe, as in me flat against the nearest surface he could find.
I’m too impulsive, Fraser says, but sometimes, you just got to do what your gut tells you. I dipped my finger into the filling and held it out to him. “This stuff is great, Frase, you wanna taste?”
He didn’t say anything - probably couldn’t - so I licked it off myself. Slowly. So cool. I could actually see him go hard through his pouchy pants. Fraser took about three seconds to yank my hand away from my mouth, say goodbye to the ladies and drag me out of there. He took another couple seconds to scope out the street before he pulled me down a driveway and into the alley behind the building.
“Frase--”
“You did that on purpose, Ray.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and ran his tongue over the finger I used for the cream, then sucked it into his mouth.
“No - just...” Ben wasn’t going to let me defend myself. It’s hard to when you have someone’s tongue wrapped around yours. God, it was, I didn’t know his tongue had that kind of reach. I swear it was saying hello to my tonsils. When he wasn’t counting my teeth, he was licking me in places where I know that cannoli had never been.
And then, well you think you know a guy. You think you know what the buttons are, and how far you can push him, and where the line is that you’ll never see him cross. Fraser dropping to his knees in that alley - in the daytime - was so far past that line that I didn’t think we were on the same planet with it anymore. I was in some universe where my mountie man was tearing my buttonflys open with his teeth to get to my dick.
It was just as anxious to see him. Gave a real nice salute before Fraser swallowed it whole and stroked that tongue up and down. It was as if he was painting it or something, all long strokes, then little dabs and dots and swirls.
I’m leaning against a brick wall, biting my lip and praying that his knees don’t give out, or no one walks through the back door. I suddenly flashed on what the police report would say. “The officer was found in the alley clutching a hat and a partially consumed Italian pastry...” Because I was. Still had the cannoli in one hand, and somehow I was holding the sacred stetson in the other. And for reasons that I’ll probably never hear the end of, I don’t do something intelligent like drop the cannoli or put the damn hat on my head so i can use a hand to steer.
“Jesus, Ben, you’re gonna kill me...” Knew he wouldn’t answer me, well, hoped he wouldn’t anyway. He stopped painting with his tongue and started dancing with it nice and slow, like a waltz. If he got up to a fox-trot, I really was going to stroke out. It was hard to concentrate on just what he was doing, because it was really noisy back there, then I realized that the moaning and groaning and whimpering I was hearing was me. I tried to stay quiet, I really did, but it couldn’t be done. Not while Benton Fraser was redefining the term “lap dance” with his tongue.
“Man. Oh, man. Like that. Like - Ben. You shouldn't. You're... I’m... I’m..." Hell, don’t know what I was except coming. I couldn’t stop it. Ben looked like he was having a religious experience with my dick, and I was biting my own tongue trying not to shatter glass by screaming while he sucked every drop of cream out of me. I didn’t see God, but I’m pretty sure I heard some Hallelujahs in there somewhere.
Fraser stood up, tugged the hem of his uniform. “I must return and finish placing the order, Ray. Why don’t you take a few minutes to tidy up and meet me up front?”
“You’re just gonna walk back in there? After we - after that...”
He reached for his hat, and squared it up on his head. Then he gave me the most shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. “That was a practical demonstration of the advantages of a multi-lingual education, Ray.”
“And just what language were you speaking there, Benton?”
“That was my best Chicago accent, Ray. And if you promise to behave yourself for the next little while, I’ll give you another demonstration when we get home. I’m even better in French.”
NOTE: This is my last story for the next couple weeks. i’m having eye surgery Tuesday and have to spend the next little while flat on my face while it heals. So if I don’t respond to comments, I’m not ignoring you!
PS: The new icon was a gift from Edith DeGolyer who knew I was looking for a turtle one.
-ches
It had been a long week, a long month, and I was ready to spend some quality time with my favorite Mountie. So yeah, I was kinda irritated with the idea of starting my three day weekend running errands for the Ice Queen.
I can understand why she doesn’t trust Turnbull with her dry-cleaning after that run-in with the emu, but any moron can order a cake. I mean, how hard can it be? You go to the bakery, you pick chocolate or yellow cake, chocolate or white frosting, pink or yellow roses, and have them pipe ‘Happy Birthday” on it. I really think Renfield could do it.
But no - Fraser is the only one who can manage this mission for the Crown, so instead of spending the morning getting my brain sucked out through my dick, I’m in some glass temple dedicated to the gods of meringue. Fraser was in a high-powered meeting with the owner, the business manager, two sales clerks, an icing artist, the chief baker and the candlestick maker for all I knew. I think they were debating the placement of every damn rose petal. In the meantime, I’d missed my morning nookie and my breakfast. Looking at the bakery chapter of Fraser’s fan club, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fix the first, but damn if I wasn’t going to take care of the second.
I checked out the contents of the cases and ran into a stumbling block. I didn’t recognize anything! Not a doughnut to be had, not even a cheese danish. Twenty five feet of what looked like Star Trek food was in front of me, full of weird spikes and shapes and fillings in colors that no human could be expected to eat without alcohol or a lot of medication - man, what was that blue stuff? It was too much like that crap they serve in The Stella’s favorite restaurant, where they give you two slivers of something beige and tell you it’s chicken.
The door from the kitchen swung open and I suddenly saw salvation. The only person in the whole place not talking to Fraser was carrying a tray of cannolis - honest to god cannolis stuffed to overflowing and tipped with shaved chocolate, just like Ma Vecchio’s. If they tasted half as good as they looked, it would almost make up for the morning nookie. I bought one - couldn’t believe it cost me six bucks.
Now, there are a couple of right ways to eat a cannoli, and none of them require a fork. All of them are messy, but that’s part of fun. I ran a finger across the tip and scooped up some filling. The texture was right, and after licking my finger clean, decided the taste was worth every penny. Good dark chocolate, real Italian cheese, and plenty of it. I stuck my finger back in, scooped out some more, licked it off. Oh, yeah, this was good.
I kept that up until I cleared enough of the filling to get to the cookie safely, then I nibbled around the edges of the shell. They even got that right. Why in the hell were these people wasting their time making that disgusting blue shit when they could be making these all day? I dipped my tongue in for some more filling and rolled it into my mouth when I realized how quiet everything was.
I looked over at the fan club and saw everyone staring at me. From the disgusted looks on all those faces, I guess this place actually did expect a guy to use a fork. Well, everyone’s face but Fraser’s. I don’t think he was thinking of flatware. Flat maybe, as in me flat against the nearest surface he could find.
I’m too impulsive, Fraser says, but sometimes, you just got to do what your gut tells you. I dipped my finger into the filling and held it out to him. “This stuff is great, Frase, you wanna taste?”
He didn’t say anything - probably couldn’t - so I licked it off myself. Slowly. So cool. I could actually see him go hard through his pouchy pants. Fraser took about three seconds to yank my hand away from my mouth, say goodbye to the ladies and drag me out of there. He took another couple seconds to scope out the street before he pulled me down a driveway and into the alley behind the building.
“Frase--”
“You did that on purpose, Ray.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and ran his tongue over the finger I used for the cream, then sucked it into his mouth.
“No - just...” Ben wasn’t going to let me defend myself. It’s hard to when you have someone’s tongue wrapped around yours. God, it was, I didn’t know his tongue had that kind of reach. I swear it was saying hello to my tonsils. When he wasn’t counting my teeth, he was licking me in places where I know that cannoli had never been.
And then, well you think you know a guy. You think you know what the buttons are, and how far you can push him, and where the line is that you’ll never see him cross. Fraser dropping to his knees in that alley - in the daytime - was so far past that line that I didn’t think we were on the same planet with it anymore. I was in some universe where my mountie man was tearing my buttonflys open with his teeth to get to my dick.
It was just as anxious to see him. Gave a real nice salute before Fraser swallowed it whole and stroked that tongue up and down. It was as if he was painting it or something, all long strokes, then little dabs and dots and swirls.
I’m leaning against a brick wall, biting my lip and praying that his knees don’t give out, or no one walks through the back door. I suddenly flashed on what the police report would say. “The officer was found in the alley clutching a hat and a partially consumed Italian pastry...” Because I was. Still had the cannoli in one hand, and somehow I was holding the sacred stetson in the other. And for reasons that I’ll probably never hear the end of, I don’t do something intelligent like drop the cannoli or put the damn hat on my head so i can use a hand to steer.
“Jesus, Ben, you’re gonna kill me...” Knew he wouldn’t answer me, well, hoped he wouldn’t anyway. He stopped painting with his tongue and started dancing with it nice and slow, like a waltz. If he got up to a fox-trot, I really was going to stroke out. It was hard to concentrate on just what he was doing, because it was really noisy back there, then I realized that the moaning and groaning and whimpering I was hearing was me. I tried to stay quiet, I really did, but it couldn’t be done. Not while Benton Fraser was redefining the term “lap dance” with his tongue.
“Man. Oh, man. Like that. Like - Ben. You shouldn't. You're... I’m... I’m..." Hell, don’t know what I was except coming. I couldn’t stop it. Ben looked like he was having a religious experience with my dick, and I was biting my own tongue trying not to shatter glass by screaming while he sucked every drop of cream out of me. I didn’t see God, but I’m pretty sure I heard some Hallelujahs in there somewhere.
Fraser stood up, tugged the hem of his uniform. “I must return and finish placing the order, Ray. Why don’t you take a few minutes to tidy up and meet me up front?”
“You’re just gonna walk back in there? After we - after that...”
He reached for his hat, and squared it up on his head. Then he gave me the most shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. “That was a practical demonstration of the advantages of a multi-lingual education, Ray.”
“And just what language were you speaking there, Benton?”
“That was my best Chicago accent, Ray. And if you promise to behave yourself for the next little while, I’ll give you another demonstration when we get home. I’m even better in French.”
NOTE: This is my last story for the next couple weeks. i’m having eye surgery Tuesday and have to spend the next little while flat on my face while it heals. So if I don’t respond to comments, I’m not ignoring you!
PS: The new icon was a gift from Edith DeGolyer who knew I was looking for a turtle one.
-ches
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 08:55 pm (UTC)Great, hot, wonderful story!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 09:23 pm (UTC)Good luck with the surgery! I'll be thinking of you!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 09:51 pm (UTC)Hot alley sex with cannoli. Very satisfying.
Sending best wishes on the eye surgery and recuperation. Hope you have a selection of good music and some audio book tapes to see you thru.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:17 am (UTC)Lots of books on tape, two librarians who love to read out loud, and a box of musicals on DVDs that I can listen to while mom oohs and aahs over the dancing. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 10:43 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting such a delicious story before you have to rest up -- best of luck!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 03:21 am (UTC)It's 7 a.m. on a Saturday, and I'm trying *so* hard not to laugh uproariously. You're not helping! :D
I suddenly flashed on what the police report would say. “The officer was found in the alley clutching a hat and a partially consumed Italian pastry...”
This was fabulous! Good luck on Tuesday and take care.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:23 am (UTC)Thanks kindly!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 05:28 am (UTC)Gah.
I totally loved this!
A very interesting way to start my Saturday morning. :)
Good luck with the eye thing. Hint: audiobooks - the only way to keep from going mad.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 06:27 am (UTC)The key is locating audio books that I can listen two without embarrassing my 80+ year old mother! It's that kind of challenge that drives one mad...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 07:42 am (UTC)Oh, I'll just bet he is! *g* That was really funny and really hot! Fantastic work.
Good luck (almost typed good lick!) with your surgery...hope everything goes perfectly!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 10:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 08:50 am (UTC)And then, well you think you know a guy. You think you know what the buttons are, and how far you can push him, and where the line is that you’ll never see him cross. Fraser dropping to his knees in that alley - in the daytime - was so far past that line that I didn’t think we were on the same planet with it anymore. I was in some universe where my mountie man was tearing my buttonflys open with his teeth to get to my dick.
great humor, great Ray voice (i love this part, just thinking about Ray getting Freser so revved up withOUT meaning to is so funny) and great heat...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 10:10 am (UTC)Gracias...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 10:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-13 05:37 pm (UTC)So glad you enjoyed it, and I'll see you in a couple weeks (I'm thinking positive!)
freakn' HOT CANOLLI !
Date: 2004-03-14 10:15 am (UTC)Re: freakn' HOT CANOLLI !
Date: 2004-03-14 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 01:44 pm (UTC)