Benny's cry of hurt and dismay caused his lover to jump from the bed, tearing his way out of the tangled sheets as he went. Looking in the mirror, the mountie saw the one he knew so well appear behind him, completely unclothed-- naked, from the worried look upon his intense face, to his bare feet on the cold tile floor.
He was mesmerized-- as always-- by the sight, the endless expanse of pale skin as it played over muscle and tendon and bone. The slight movement caused by an intake of breath caused such a stirring in his groin....
"Are you all right?"
Ben's attention snapped back to his own reflection, to the slight welling of blood on one side of his jaw, to the razor in his hand.
He blushed, embarrassed by his own carelessness and the attention he'd brought to it, as much as by his automatic reaction to his lover's arrival. The wild thought crossed his mind that the cut should not bleed at all, given the amount of blood rushing to redden his face... and other parts....
Feeling arms close about his waist and the evidence of mutual desire pressed against the small of his back, he turned his head to meet soft lips that touched his, then slid slowly down his cheek to the cut that-- against reason-- still trailed a few drops of crimson.
With a sigh and a slight shudder, the lips pulled back from the now-clean wound and a hand reached around to take his.
"Forget this. Come back to bed, Constable," LaCroix whispered.
Dief, who had risen with the expectation of breakfast, rolled his eyes, sighed in a wolfish sort of way, and returned to lying in the corner, his head cushioned on a pair of discarded mukluks.
(damn... I think I just scared myself... and that's not so easy to do...
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Vanity Web Page-- http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed,
we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris K.