Madrugada

[spainja.livejournal.com]

So...This is my first attempt at writing anything even vaguely resembling smut. And, upon rereading, it occurs to me that there's a part in this story that some people might find a bit...icky. Don't worry--it's not what it seems.

Based (loosely) on a dream I've had. (Oh, but don't those words inspire confidence.)


Deduction

Cold air rushing past his face. The sting of snowflakes on his cheeks. The singing of the sled runners against the snow, accompanied by the yelps of the dogs. The dark shapes of trees blurred in the edge of his vision.

He braced himself as he felt the sled turning...the turn was too sharp and he could feel the sled tilting dangerously. He tried to compensate, to bring the sled back to a safer angle, but just the the runner struck something small and hard (a rock?) and the ensuing jolt sent the sled over and dumped him unceremoniously into the snow. The yelps of the team faded as the dogs and the now unoccupied sled disappeared into the darkness.

He lay on his back in the snowbank, feeling really quite foolish. Stupid rookie mistake. He realized that he was in no hurry to get up, and decided to wallow in his embarrassment. The Northern Lights danced in the night sky as he watched his breath crystalize in the air above him, until cheerfully mocking barks announced the arrival of Diefenbaker.

"I'm all right. Nothing broken," he reassured the wolf, who cocked his head and glanced at him sardonically, then proceeded to lave his face with a long, wet tongue.

"Dief! Diefen--bleah!" he managed to squeeze out around the tongue and wolf spittle. "Stop that! Do I look like Ray to you?" Dief snuffled indignantly and moved away from his face. "I thought not," he said smugly. "Now if you'll kindly back away and allow me to--eep!" He let out a sound annoyingly close to a yelp as he felt Dief's muzzle nudging his crotch.

"Must you act like such a--a dog?" he scolded. "Honestly, one would hope you were above such stereotypical displays of your species--oh." He broke off abruptly, as he realized that Dief had somehow managed to nose his way inside of the fly of the snowpants (how on earth had he managed that?) and was now taking long, slow licks up--

Oh, dear.

This was--bad. This was really (very good) not right at all, a complete violation of the (warm and wet) long-established balance in their relationship, and though he couldn't, at this particular juncture, recall exactly (mmmmm) where he was, he was fairly sure that wherever it might be, there were many, many laws against this sort of activity.

Wait. This made no sense. Why would Dief be licking him there? Dief and he shared a long and at time complex relationship, but it was not the sort of relationship that led to this sort of contact. So, logically, if his penis was being licked (and it most certainly was....mmmmm...) then Dief could not be the licker. So who was?

Well, Ray, of course. It had to be Ray. And, in fact, when he glanced down his body again, he could see that the head bobbing between his thighs was blond and spiky, rather than white and furry. Oh, well, that made much more sense. And now that he thought about it, he could remember Ray winking at him, promising to reward him after he won the race...ah, so this was his reward, then....

Except that he hadn't won the race, had he? He hadn't even finished it. He had fallen off into the snow. Obviously Ray was laboring under a misconception. He should inform Ray, then, that his reward was premature, that he really needed to get up and complete the race before they continued this...delightful...activity. "Ray," he said, tugging gently at the spiky hair. "Ray. Ray. Ray..."

After the fifth or so "Ray", it occurred to him that this course of action could be construed as foolish. Perhaps it would be more prudent to let Ray...ah...finish his task before attempting to correct him about the state of the race. Certainly Ray would be much more attentive when he was no longer distracted by the sucking...and licking...and wet...and warm...

He settled back into his snowbank and let the sensations wash over him for a little while.

It was an remarkably comfortable snowbank, really. Considering that he was lying in a mound of frozen water, there was a surprising lack of cold. He was quite warm lying here, even the parts of him that were bare, like the back of his neck. And the snow beneath his hands didn't really feel like any snow he'd encountered. It almost felt more like...cotton linens? Actually, upon reflection, perhaps he wasn't really in a snowbank after all. It seemed more likely that he was in a--

Bed. Benton came fully awake with a gasp. Snow, stars, sled all vanished in a flash, leaving only the warm, wet suction at his groin. He brought his head up just in time to meet Ray's mischievous eyes flashing at him before pleasure slammed into him and his body convulsed and he dropped back down onto the white pillow, only vaguely aware of the soft gulping sounds Ray was making.

After a minute, Ray slid up alongside him and dropped a quick, salty kiss onto his lips. "Good morning," he said, grinning wickedly. "Or, well--yeah, technically it's morning."

"Good morning," Benton replied automatically. He shook his head a little to clear it. "What-whatever inspired that?"

"Couldn't sleep. Got bored." Ray stretched his long arms, then rolled to his side and wrapped them around Benton. "You didn't seem to mind too much."

"Mmmm," Benton hummed, reveling in the warm liquid feeling spreading through his body. He pressed a kiss to Ray's temple. "Thank you kindly."

"Anytime, buddy. Happy to oblige. It was kinda fun, actually." Ray paused, and Benton could see the side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk. "Well, except for the part when you called me Dief." He met Benton's eyes and cocked an insolent eyebrow. "Got something you wanna tell me, Frase?"

Benton rolled himself over within Ray's arms until he could feel Ray's warmth at his back. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, and closed his eyes again.