Part Two

Fraser moved over to the woodburning stove, getting a pot holder off the cabinet, and picked up a speckled enamelware coffee pot. "I do not have brandy. Will whiskey serve?"

"It will serve very well." There was a warm, damp rooting at Clive's crotch. Normally Clive would have had no problem with this, but since Benton was across the room that left only one possible culprit. Clive opened the quilt and gazed down sternly at the wolf who was snuffling at his comfort slit. "Back off. I told you I don't swing that way."

The wolf pricked his ears at the steely tone. He pulled back a fraction, cocking his head to look up at the man with the interesting smell. Clive bared his teeth. The ears went back, and the wolf gave a placating whine, thinking, *Shit, another alpha male! I wonder if he's going to challenge Big Guy for packleader? Better stay on his good side--he may end up being the source of jelly donuts.* He lay down, rolling over to show his throat and belly.

"Oh, my!" Benton had been taking a nearly full fifth off a shelf, but he was watching Clive and the wolf with open-mouthed interest. "I have never seen Diefenbaker act like that with anyone else."

"Yes, well," Clive reached down, grabbed Diefenbaker's neck ruff and shook it, letting the wolf know that his show of respect had been accepted, "wolves have a very sensible outlook when it comes to who's, er, top dog. Diefenbaker?"

"Yes, he is named after..."

"The thirteenth prime minister of Canada, yes, I know."

"You DO?" That almost flumoxed Fraser. He'd gotten so used to having to explain the wolf's name that he hardly knew what to say next. "You do not find it odd?"

"Not really, but then my best friend named her cat Tietlebaum for no apparent reason. I must remember to tease her about that the next time I see her." Clive sat back, wrapping the quilt about him again, and said pointedly, "Drink?" Politeness was one thing, but if he was going to relate to Fraser he needed to get who was in charge squared away.

"Of course. My apologies." He poured a generous tot of liquor into the coffee, then brought the mug to Clive.

"Thank you." He was usually courteous to his submissives, at least at the beginning, till they came to understand that any rudeness and roughness was part of the play and not an indicator of disrespect. Clive sipped the drink, and it began to spread a very pleasant warmth through his belly. He was hoping, however, for something a bit farther south. Clive patted the thin mattress next to him. "Park it, pet, and let's have a natter."

"Certainly." Benton Fraser sat beside him, close enough to put another mark in the 'approachable' column of the 'Will He Or Won't He?' questionair. "I must admit that I am very curious as to how you came to be out in the middle of the Northwestern Territories dressed in nothing but a pair of rather skimpy underwear."

"These are not skimpy, darling. You should see Trenton's thong."

"Really? Who is Trenton?"

Clive smiled. "My lover."

"Oh."

"You can certainly pack a lot into one little syllable, darling. You don't sound particularly shocked."

"Oh, no, no. I am a bit surprised, though. Though your speech patterns are a touch flamboyant, you strike me as a particularly masculine man." *wuff* "Even Dief agrees."

"How very perceptive you both are. I'm butch only to a degree. If I weren't a bit camp I wouldn't have or BE nearly as much fun. If memory serves me correctly, shouldn't you have a cute blonde partner stashed somewhere around here?"

"Stanley. He is back in Chicago. I could not persuade him to accompany me. He insists on spending his vacation time at some place called 'Club Med'."

"Club Med has a lot to offer, but being isolated in a snowbound cabin can be nice, too--if you're with the right person." Clive scooted a bit closer.

"That is my view exactly." He sighed, gazing off with a dreamy expression. "I would enjoy some time alone with Stanley."

"He's pretty special, hm?" A nod. "What does he look like?" *One way to heat up a susceptible man--get him thinking about OTHER hot men.*

"Well, as you somehow deduced, his hair is blonde." Benton smiled. "He wears it... Um, rather all over his head. It looks very, very soft."

"I'd really like to meet him. You say it looks soft--you haven't touched and found out?"

Fraser looked startled at the very idea. "Goodness, no! I could hardly perform such a familiar act without permission."

"Oh, I bet he's just waiting for you to make a move like that!"

"Do you really think so?" Fraser was shyly smoothing the material of his jodhpurs over muscular thighs.

"Honey, from what I've observed, if you gave him the least hint that you were interested 'that way' he'd be all over you."

Fraser cut his eyes at Clive. "It does not shock you that I am interested in another man?"

Clive patted Benny's hand (which just HAPPENED to still be lying on his thigh--SO easy for someone to slip) and drawled, "Precious, the last time I was shocked it involved nipple clamps and a malfunctioning battery, but let's not go into that right now. What color are his eyes?"

"Very blue."

"And what about his ass?" Fraser blushed--not quite as bright a red as his tunic, but very respectable, nevertheless. "You HAVE noticed his ass, haven't you?"

"While Stanley is not very big, and is rather wirey, he is quite muscular. His glutes are well developed...," Benton's eyes went soft, "but his posterior still looks incredibly round and soft." He blinked, clearing his throat. "From what I can tell."

"Mhm. Fraser, you need to find out from first hand observation."

"Oh, I could not ask! Besides, while I am not entirely inexperienced when it comes to," his voice became faint, "homosexual practises..." his voice strengthened, "I have never attempted..." his voice faded again, "anal intercourse..." it rose again, "in any manner."

"Gracious, you fade in and out like a weak radio station when you drive through the mountains. You really need to build up your confidence before you attempt anything with Stanley, Fraser."

"I suppose so." He sounded dejected. "It is just... how can I try to make love to him when I have no idea of whether or not I'll be able to please him?"

*BINGO!* "Well, you need to PRACTISE, lamb."

"I thought that perhaps I could do some research. There are certain books and magazines..." he blushed again, "I happened to peek into the back room at the newstand when I was picking up my copy of Canadian Living. There were two--Xtra, which is a Toronto based gay magazine, and Clue Magazine, which targets West Canada's gay and lesbian readers. But perhaps an earthier publication such as Blue Boy would..."

"How long did this peek last?"

"Um... about two hours. I had to leave because the propriator was closing up."

"Yes, research like that can be very intertaining, especially if you have a quiet room and a bottle of hand lotion, but I doubt that you'd get much PRACTICAL information. No, Fraser, in such a case," he lowered his voice, "hands on instruction is the best method."

"I do not believe I have ever run across such a course at the community college."

Clive sighed, rolling his eyes, *Cute, and clueless.* "I'm offering my services as a private tutor."

Benton gasped. "Clive! You... you..."

"Don't be hasty, Benton."

"...your generosity overwhelms me! Thank you kindly. You DO understand, though, that I wish to be the... the..."

"You pitch, I'll catch, but don't you DARE breath a word of it to Trenton. He doesn't know yet that I occasionally switch. He might want to try to top and neither one of us is ready for that yet."

"But are you sure that you wish to have congress with me?"

"Sweetie, I wouldn't have most of Congress if you presented them already naked, bound, shaved, and oiled up, but I'm POSITIVE I want to do it with you. Can we agree that I'm thoroughly warmed up by now?"

"Your color is very good, and that hand feels quite warm. I would say so."

Clive let the quilt drop from his shoulders, took Fraser's hands, and guided them to his hard nipples. "That isn't from the cold, Fraser. I'm warm in more ways than one."

"Oh, dear." Benton pinched. Clive groaned happily. "I'm sorry--was I too rough?"

"Not at ALL, pet. You did that very nicely, and I wouldn't minds some more, and..." *blink blink* "You just used a contraction."

"Arousal seems to have that effect on me."

"Well, hell, let's try for split infinitives." Clive ran one finger down Fraser's chest, flicking at the tunic's brass buttons, and stopped against his Sam Browne belt. "While I absolutely love this, I've had enough cold things close to my skin." He started unbuckling the belt. "I'll just help you with this." He got the belt undone and slid it from around Fraser's waist, then examined it. "Excellent grade of leather. Trenton would love it."

"They come in both larger and smaller sizes."

*smirk* "He wouldn't be wearing it." *pause* "Well, maybe he would. I have a nice harness this would go well with." Clive unbuttoned the tunic, and opened it. "Do you know, pet? You can even make thermal underwear look sexy."

"Thank you kindly."

"Skin would be better, though. Off." In a few moments the boots, the jodhpurs, and the underwear were gone. Clive ran an appreciative hand over Benton's broad, solid chest. "N-i-c-e." He tweaked one already firming nipple, bringing it quickly to attention. "And pink--one of my favorite colors." He leaned away and gave Fraser a thorough, comprehensive look. "You, precious, ARE the Great White North... EXCEPT when you blush like that. You and Trenton have a lot in common about that. We've fucked like bunnies for over a year now, and I can STILL make him blush. Now, put the boots back on."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, you beautiful hunk of Canadian bacon. If I let you mount up, you are DAMN sure going to be wearing those 'fuck me' boots." Fraser tugged the boots back on. Clive studied the effect. "And the belt."

"I thought you didn't want anything cold next to your skin?"

"You don't think I'm going to let you just LIE on top of me, do you?" Fraser buckled on the belt. "Okay, loosen it one more notch and let it ride low on your hips." Fraser did. Clive fanned himself. "I think we just reached critical mass."

Clive gave Benton another laser-eyed exam. He started at the thick, sleek brush of sable brown hair, over the almost ridiculously handsome face, down the strong column of his neck and to the expanse of a smooth, pale, magnificently buff torso (complete with nipples like gumdrops), over the thick, dark band of the belt, and under the belt...

*Careful, Clive. Try not to salivate down your chin--it's so gauche. Will you just LOOK at that cock? Well, of course you will. Now I'm babbling to myself. It's been awhile--that may hurt... I hope, I hope, I hope.*

Clive tore his gaze away from the beautiful, long cock that was thickening and rising under his scrutiny, to finish his perusal. Down strong, muscular, slightly spread legs, with a fine dusting of hair, to the glorious, gay shoe fetishist's dream boots. He resisted the urge to ask Fraser to turn around so he could have a look at his ass because he'd already promised to let the dear boy top, and he knew his resolve would probably weaken if he got a glimpse of what would probably look like two perfect, delicous scoops of vanilla ice cream.

Fraser shuffled. "I... do look all right, don't I?"

"If I was inclined to keep a long term submissive other than my darling Trenton I would soon be locking you into the prettiest set of manacles I own."

Fraser ducked his head shyly. "But Clive, I thought that YOU were going to act as the submissive this time."

Clive arched one eyebrow. "While I may elect to be penetrated on occasion rather than DO the penetrating, I am never fully submissive, Fraser."

"But how...?"

"You'll find out." He slid off his briefs. He had been thoroughly enjoying the show, and was now so hard that his cock almost slapped against his belly when he freed it.

Fraser goggled. "Clive, for a man who is not physically all that massive, you are..."

"Thank you, pet."

"Do you suppose Stanley...?"

"I have no way of knowing, but you might as well be optimistic." He lay back on the cot, wiggling voluptuously. "We'll need some sort of lubrication."

"Oh, yes. Um... I have some mineral oil that I use to shine my boots. Will that do?"

"Should be just spiffy. Bring it on." Fraser took a small bottle from the shelf over the bed and handed it to Clive, who opened it. "I'll start the ball rolling, then you'll take over after you see how it is done. Hold out your hand."

Clive slathered Benton's fingers on his right hand with oil, then coated his own. He rolled onto his side, cocking one leg. "Can you see, precious?"

Fraser's voice was thick as he sat on the edge of the cot, "Yes."

"Good. Watch carefully. Now, I'm sure a smart boy like you knows your anatomy." He touched himself. "What's this?"

"That's your anus."

"Coloquially known as the asshole, or as I sometimes term it, the Gates to Paradise. Watch carefully. A considerate lover will make sure that his partner is fully relaxed and sufficiently open before he attempts penetration. A little pain now and then is relished by all kinky men, but agony is NOT. You want to try to avoid tearing, also. Massage firmly around the entrance, thusly. You'll be able to feel when the sphicter begins to relax. Next the considerate lover will slowly and gently introduce one finger into the back passage. However, since I occasionally like a little S and M with my B and D, and I'm impatient..."

Fraser gasped, blood surging into his cock as Clive thrust one finger roughly into himself, not stopping till his hand was flush against his backside. Clive groaned. "DAMN, it's been a long time, but it's just as good as I remembered it. Hurts so good." He began to pump his hand strongly.

Benton watched the finger, shiny with oil, sliding in and out of the clinging little pucker, and imagined replacing it with his prick. His cock was so hard by now that it was just this side of painful, and the cockhead was drooling a steady stream of clear pre-ejaculate. Fraser was familiar with this from his masturbation sessions (there had been a lot of them--there wasn't all that much to do in the evenings up here). He started to stroke himself, and Clive said sharply, "Fraser, if you come anywhere but inside me, I swear I will take that belt off you and then lay it back ON you in a manner that will leave you as striped as a candy cane!"

Fraser stopped quickly. "I'm beginning to see how this 'topping from the bottom' might be accomplished."

"You need something to distract you." Clive pulled his finger out. "Wait, let me see your nails." Fraser obliged. "Lovely. I bet you manicure on a regular basis."

"Good grooming is important."

"I couldn't agree more. Put two close together and do what I did."

Benton gripped Clive's hip with his left hand, and pressed the tips of two fingers to his rectum. "I think I ought to be a bit more cautious, at least till I get the feel for this."

"Immenently sensible. Now quit talking and finger fuck me."

"Yes, sir." Benton pressed, and felt his fingers sliding into incredibly hot, tight moistness. He once again thought of his cock in the same situation. "Clive, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to do this."

"I won't need three, so just keep stroking a few moments more. And while you're at it, are you familiar with a little thing called the prostate?"

"I am, of course, aware of it's existence."

"Well, go exploring, pet. Not everyone can hit it when they fuck, so since you have those long fingers I want a nice internal massage before you get in the saddle."

"Understood." Fraser had been working his fingers in and out of Clive's body while he spoke--now he pushed deep and began to feel around. Clive squirmed happily. Even without touching the magic spot it felt damn good. "I think it should be right about..." Clive suddenly jerked, gasping, "here."

"Try EXACTLY there! To quote those almost unbearably perky cheerleaders, 'Do it again! Do it again! Harder, HARDER!" Fraser rubber firmly, and Clive quickly gripped the base of his own cock, squeezing almost viciously. "DAMN, I wish they had pockets on briefs--I could have brought along a cockring. Pull out, Fraser." When Fraser continued to massage, Clive fought down the almost overwhelming waved of pleasure, reached up, and grabbed Benton's hair, jerking. "Stop, dammit! I'm not going to come unless you're inside me, understand?"

Fraser's voice was pained. "Yes, now please unhand my hair."

Clive shook him. "Are we CLEAR on this, precious? You do what I tell you, WHEN I tell you."

"Yes, sir. Please?"

Clive released his grip, smoothing Fraser's hair. "Just keep being a good boy and we will BOTH have a good time, Fraser." He turned onto his back, spreading his legs. "Get into position."

"Please believe that I'm not questioning your instructions," Benton said carefully, "but is there a particular reason WHY you don't want to be fucked on your hands and knees?"

"There are several. Face to face I can watch your expression as you get your first real piece of ass, the penetration will be deeper, you're less likely to slip out on the backstroke with my legs hooked over your shoulders, and you're also less likely to get the delusion that you have total control of the situation. Satisfied?"

"Not yet, but I hope to be--soon." Fraser knelt between Clive's spread knees.

"Grab my hips or my butt and lift." Fraser slid his hands under Clive's ass and did as instructed. Clive rolled back a little on his spine, lifting his legs to drape over Fraser's shoulders.

Fraser looked down between them. He let go with one hand to reach down, and Clive hooked with his legs, hanging on. When Fraser pushed down on his prick it was aiming directly at Clive's slightly spread, glistening hole. He sounded surprised. "Why, the aim is almost perfect!" He touched himself to the opening, his cockhead penetrating no more than a fourth of an inch.

"So much for the argument that it's awkward. Slam it home, Fraser."

"But Clive, I'm rather large. I really don't want to hurt you."

"Look, when you make it with Stanley you can be just as gentle and slow and tender as you like, but dammit, if I'm going to let someone fuck me, I want to get FUCKED!" He grabbed Fraser's belt and jerked, hard.

Fraser slid in with one smooth motion, not stopping till their pubic hair mingled and he bumped to a stop. Clive stiffened, making a deep groan. "Oh, dear! It DID hurt!"

"It burned a bit, precious, but you also hit the magic spot on the way in. Oooh, baby! I haven't been this full since Trenton's mom, Lynette, had me over for Thanksgiving dinner. When I left I was more stuffed than the turkey had been. Ooo..." He let go of Fraser's belt, throwing his arms over his head in sybaritic bliss. "You've been such a good boy that I'm going to give you a treat. After I do, I want you to go ahead and fuck me--hard."

"What is it?"

"This."

Fraser moaned as Clive flexed internally, the muscles of his back passage rippling around and along the Mountie's buried prick. It felt as if he was being sucked. After that he wouldn't have been able to disobey Clive if he'd wanted to. He started bucking against the smaller man, shoving in and out fast and hard.

The angle was exactly right--Fraser hit Clive's prostate at almost every pass. Clive didn't really yelp during sex, but he started a deep, feral growl that made Diefenbaker whine and run anxiously back and forth. He was getting hard, too, and he knew for DAMN sure that no one was going to give him any. He finally settled in a far corner and practised the ancient canine art so admired and envied by most human males--he gave himself oral sex.

Clive was thoroughly enjoying Fraser's vigorous thrusts *The only thing as good as fucking a beautiful submissive is BEING fucked by a beautiful submissive. And to think there are people who believe you can't take it up the ass and still be a Dominant. Foolish mortals.*

Clive braced his hands flat against the mattress and managed to shove up to meet Fraser. The Mountie whimpered with pleased astonishment as he managed to drive even deeper.

"Fraser," Clive panted, "I'm close. Grab my dick." Without missing a beat the Mountie wrapped a big hand around Clive's erection and began to masturbate him. He had a sense of what Clive liked now, and didn't have to be ordered to make his motions strong, and a little rough. Clive purred. If Diefenbaker hadn't been so pre-occupied with licking his own balls he would have looked for the cat.

"Now," said Clive, "HOLD STILL!"

Fraser froze, though he thought that he very well might explode. Clive kept himself in shape, and he was remarkably supple. He hardly had to strain at all to reach Fraser's balls. He squeezed. Benton bellowed and came.

Clive felt the scalding pulse of Fraser's come jetting into his very core. That was all it took, and he came, too, bathing the Mountie's still moving hand (yes, Fraser had had enough sense to keep on doing THAT).

When Fraser caught his breath he said, "Do you know, I used to think that I'd HAD sex before."

Clive laughed, and unhooked his legs from Fraser's shoulders. "I suppose you did, dear, but when all you've had is vanilla, cinnamon swirl with hot fudge, whipped cream, and sprinkles comes as a bit of a shock."

Fraser grinned. "What--no cherry?"

Clive laughed till he was weak. "Not... not for some time, I'm afraid."

The cot was narrow, but Clive solved that problem by spreading himself over a sated Fraser, like a blanket. He yawned. "Tell you what, sweetcheeks. We'll catch a nap, then you can put your red tunic back on, and we can play Dirty Santa Claus."

"That sounds interesting. However I will feel a bit hypocritical judging anyone," Fraser's voice seemed to be coming from a distance, as Clive's eyes closed, "since I have just gotten through being so splendidly naughty myself."

*****

Clive woke up to snow, but it was not the wet, cold kind. He blinked at the buzzing television. *Well, fuck. The cable's gone out again. If that isn't back on by tomorrow morning, I'm going to grab the first repairman I can get my hands on and show him what OTHER uses that cable can be put to.*

He checked the clock. It had been less than an hour. He calculated how much time Trenton would have to sleep if he was awake for, say, another hour, and decided that the boy could sleep a half hour late, and he'd drive him to school instead of letting him take the bus.

Trenton woke up when Clive shook him gently. "Huh?" He rubbed his eyes. "Mornin' already?"

"No, pet--playtime, then sleeptime, then morning."

Trenton sat up, and found a large pair of striped pajamas laying in his lap. He fingered them. "Since when do either of us wear pajamas?"

"Costumes, darling. That should float on you."

Trenton grinned as he started to slip on the top. "Daddy?"

Clive was wearing a brilliantly scarlet jacket over his briefs. He grinned. "Santa. You will sit on my lap, and we will discuss naughty boys who get switches, and good boys who get candy canes." His eyebrows lifted at Trenton's delighted laugh. "Ho, ho, ho, precious."

END PART 2