Ray Kowalski stared down at the present in his hands and decided that Christmas sucked. Of course Dewey had to give him something he'd already got... Oh well. He shrugged slightly. It fit in perfectly with everything else that had happened in the last few days. He looked up into a pair of blue eyes and a long, slightly angular face with a hopeful expression, and held the blaster out to Turnbull.
"Here, you have it."
Turnbull's face lit up as he took the toy, and Kowalski watched,
amused, as the Mountie capered around the Bull Pen spraying its
inhabitants indiscriminately with fake gunfire. Everyone seemed
to be having fun... except for Fraser, still clutching that
picture frame and looking lost. The smile slid off his face. He
knew only too well how that felt, but there was nothing he could
do about it. Fraser didn't exactly give much away. He wandered in the
Mountie's direction.
"Hey, Fraser, you wanna go somewhere and maybe get something to
eat?"
Fraser pulled his attention away from the picture for a moment.
"Thank you Ray. That would be... very pleasant."
Kowalski grinned. "Well, it's Christmas Eve isn't it?"
He flung an arm around his friend's shoulder as they walked out.
*
The complete lack of sound woke him. In this city, there was almost never a time when everything was silent, but now it was. Kowalski opened his eyes reluctantly. It was pitch dark, and through the window, he could see big fat flakes of snow drifting down, muffling everything. Pure magic.
"Merry Christmas, Ray." Warm lips brushed against his
cheek.
Kowalski turned to look up into dimly seen blue eyes. "I
guess."
How the hell had he gotten into this? A part of him didn't want
to acknowledge the real reason. If Stella hadn't blown him off
like that, in front of everybody... But the truth was, it was
sheer loneliness. What kind of a man spent Christmas Eve alone?
Or Christmas Day. Well, Fraser, for one, but, much as he liked
his partner, he didn't want to end up like that.
Still it had begun to look like that was exactly what was going
to happen until, arriving home after that depressing dinner, he'd found
another Mountie on his doorstep. Blushing furiously and
quite speechless, Turnbull had held out a gift wrapped parcel to
him. He'd had to invite the other man inside after that, and
offer him a beer.
Of course he'd known Turnbull had a crush on him. It had been
embarrassingly obvious for months. He'd been surprised to realise that
the notion didn't offend him. Instead, it had intrigued him, though he'd
had no intention of doing anything about it. He'd
always thought of himself as straight, but then, he'd been in
love with Stella since he was twelve, so why should he ever have
looked anywhere else?
It had been Fraser who'd opened his eyes in that area. He'd heard the
talk about Fraser and Vecchio, but he hadn't really believed
it, especially after he'd met the Mountie. Fraser was such a
straight arrow, how could he possibly swing that way? Then,
gradually, he'd begun to realise that it was true. It wasn't
anything Fraser said. In fact Fraser never mentioned Vecchio at
all, to the point where Kowalski had started wondering why.
In the end it hadn't been hard to work out, especially as his new friend
had withdrawn more and more into himself. Talking about
Vecchio hurt Fraser too much. Kowalski had tried talking about
Vecchio himself, and had been firmly diverted onto another
subject. The next time he'd tried, the same thing had happened.
After that, he'd stopped trying.
And if Fraser, who was as good a man as he'd ever met, could be
that way, then how could he think less of him, or anyone else,
for it? So when he'd started to realise that Turnbull was tagging along
with him and Fraser for a reason... well, he'd just felt
sorry for the guy. He knew all too well what it felt like to want something
he couldn't have.
But last night it had just seemed like more than he could bear to spend
the night alone. He'd had a few too many beers by then.
Turnbull had only had one, but that had been all it had taken.
Somehow, they'd ended up sitting far too close on the couch, and
then... it surprised him that he didn't feel bad about it. At
least, that he didn't feel bad about doing it with a guy.
It didn't seem like such a good idea now, though. He didn't want
Turnbull getting expectations, and who knew what was going on in
that Mountie head? It was too late to go back, but if they were
going to do this again, it would be strictly for fun and sex, and that
was it. No mushy stuff. But for now... he accepted
Turnbull's kiss on the mouth, parting his lips acquiescently.
Turnbull was a good kisser, and a surprisingly good lover,
considering what a dufus he was.
After a while, he rolled onto his back, pulling Turnbull on top
of him. It felt good to hold a warm body in his arms, to kiss and be
kissed. To have some company on a cold winter's night. A
gentle sucking on his nipple sent a wave of lust straight to his
groin and Kowalski shivered. Above him, Turnbull moaned softly,
sliding his cock over Kowalski's and he pushed up against the
Canadian, pressing their groins together. God, it felt good.
"Ray?" Turnbull's voice was breathless.
Kowalski arched his back slightly. "Yeah? Do it,
willya?"
Turnbull began to drive against him fiercely and Kowalski
responded instinctively. He could lose himself in this. Kowalski
flung back his head and plunged recklessly against the solid body above
him. Afterwards they lay in silence and watched the snow
fall, silent and weightless. He'd never be able to sleep now, and it
was only three a.m.
Turnbull's hand drifted lightly across his chest. "Would you like
to go for a walk, Ray?"
"Are you crazy? It's snowing!"
He felt Turnbull shrug slightly. "Haven't you ever been for
a walk in the snow?"
"Only when I couldn't avoid it. It's three a.m., for
chrissakes." The Mountie was nuts.
Turnbull didn't answer, and after a while Kowalski sighed.
"All right! Just a short walk. Five minutes, OK?"
*
He was never quite sure, afterwards, how they ended up driving to
Grant Park and walking under the trees in the darkness. The
snow was just starting to settle. If it kept up, Chicago would
have a white Christmas after all.
"There, now. Isn't this lovely?" Turnbull was watching
at him expectantly.
It was, actually, but he wasn't going to admit it. "My hands are
cold."
"Well, I told you to wear gloves, Ray." Turnbull
stopped and took hold of his hands, blowing on the fingers, then
chafing them briskly. "Is that better?"
"A bit."
Turnbull smiled at him and began to unbutton the thick woollen
jacket he was wearing. Then he reached for Kowalski.
Kowalski dodged away. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you, Ray."
Grumbling, Kowalski submitted to having his coat unbuttoned. Then his
hands were firmly placed against Turnbull's chest and
Turnbull's arms slid around him, under the coat, pulling him
close.
"What is this?" He was mumbling into Turnbull's
shoulder.
"Well, Ray, we're sharing body heat." Turnbull's lips
seemed to brush against his hair. "It's very effective don't you
think?"
"Aren't we supposed to take off all our clothes?"
"Not under these circumstances, Ray. Besides, I'm sure
there's a civic ordinance prohibiting it."
"I guess." He lifted his head, and, as he'd expected,
Turnbull kissed him. His feet were going numb. "I think we'd better
keep walking. Or go back to the car."
The last sentence was ignored. "All right, Ray."
Turnbull released him and stripped off his left glove.
"Here, put this on. And button up."
Kowalski pulled it on obediently. "One glove ain't gonna do
much good."
"Ah. That's what you think." Turnbull took firm hold of Kowalski's
right hand with his left, and pushed them both into
the depths of his pocket. "See?"
It was, in a strange kind of way, romantic to be walking through
Grant Park in the early hours of Christmas morning while the snow drifted
around them. The trees held a thin canopy of snow,
everything was clean and new, and the hush that always came with
a snowfall only added to the magical aura. They were holding
hands.
Kowalski wasn't sure he wanted to think too much about that. It
was only for warmth after all, but it reminded him of the times
he'd brought Stella here on warm summer evenings, before it all
fell apart. On a night like this, even those memories lost their
power to hurt him.
He realised that they'd been walking in a large circle, and were
almost back to the car. Kowalski stopped and half turned to face
the other man.
"This was a good idea. Thanks." Turnbull's face lit up
with a big smile. They kissed again. "Now can we go home and thaw
out?"
*
Before they'd left, Kowalski had turned the radiator way up,
and the apartment was beautifully warm. Without having to think
about it, they drifted into the bedroom, shedding their clothes
as they went. He pulled Turnbull down into the nest of blankets,
and since they didn't need to cover up, he left the light on as
they began to make love.
Their bodies already knew what to do, and soon they were tangled
together, the heat rising between them as desire sky-rocketed.
Kowalski lowered his lips to suck on a burning, sweat-salty
nipple and ran his fingers down the inside of one blocky,
ice-skater's thigh. Turnbull groaned, his cock rising to brand
Kowalski's belly with its heat.
His own cock ached ferociously and he guided Turnbull's hand to
it. A breathless gasp, and it was taken in a firm grip and pumped with
a deliberate intensity. For a moment he lost all sense of
where he was, his hips rising and falling in a fierce rhythm, and then
he gained control of himself again. Sliding down Turnbull's
body, he took the heated shaft between his fingers, stroking
firmly while glazed blue eyes watched him.
Turnbull's cock was a thing of beauty, thick, solid, roped with
veins and flushed wetly at the tip. His tongue snaked out to
caress it softly. Turnbull shuddered and arched his back, his
eyes closing. He lavished the proud flesh with kisses and
caresses of his tongue and fingers until Turnbull seemed about to lose
control, then parted the muscular thighs and slid between
them.
They lay chest to chest for long moments while they both caught
their breath. Held tightly against Turnbull's body, he couldn't
reach his lover's mouth, so Kowalski dropped hot little kisses
over his chest instead. Turnbull's hands massaged his back and
down over his butt, encouraging him to move with tiny thrusts of
his own hips. Their cocks slid easily, slick with their own
juices. They thrust against each other, groaning with mingled
passion and pleasure until the climax took them.
*
The sky was lightening now, and still he couldn't sleep. It
had been a big mistake to ask Turnbull to stay, but it was too
late for regrets now. The Canadian lay sleeping in his arms, his
weight an unwelcome reminder of what had happened between them.
It would be OK if it was just a sex thing. Fuck buddies, that's
what it was called, wasn't it? But it was already starting to get complicated
and he wasn't sure that he liked that.
It had started snowing again. He lay watching the snow drift down and
thought about walking in the snow, holding hands. How long
since he'd done that? Even when he and Stella were still
together, they hadn't done it for a long time. If only he could
go back in time, take her for more walks in the snow...
Turnbull stirred in his arms and subsided again, his hand resting in
the centre of Kowalski's chest. Absentmindedly, Kowalski
twined his fingers with the Canadian's. Holding hands. It was too late
for Stella, he finally admitted to himself. But maybe...
there was someone who loved him. Someone he might be able to love in
return. It wouldn't be hard to love Turnbull. Maybe it could
work... just maybe... He smiled a little and closed his eyes.
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