Bodycheck	   Bodycheck

 by Kat

  

 

 Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Alliance own them. Sigh.

 Author's Notes: Thanks a lot to Sel for reading through it, & to all the
people on Serge who responded to my request for info on hockey games. This
would be wildly inaccurate without you.

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 I'm woken by a cold nose pressing itself into my palm. Sleepily, I pull
my hand away and turn over, reaching out for Ray...who isn't there. He's
standing fully dressed by the bed, pulling Dief away from me and trying to
pick up his keys quietly. Groggy and only half-awake, I sit up. "Ray, what
are you doing?" He scowls at Dief. "Now look what you did. Lie back down."
The last is addressed to me, accompanied by a hand in the centre of my
chest, pushing me back down against the sheets gently but firmly. Sitting
on the edge of the bed, he kisses me lightly. "I'm taking the furball out
for a walk, running some errands and then coming back to watch the hockey
game with you. 'Kay?" I yawn and squint at the clock. "What time is it?"
"About eleven thirty."
 Feeling mildly guilty for having slept so late, I move to get out of bed
but Ray intercepts me. "No, go back to sleep. Dief wasn't supposed to wake
you. You need your rest, I kept you up kinda late last night." He winks
and I smile. Last night, and early this morning. Making love lazily, with
the early-dawn light streaming through the window and Ray twined round me.
And afterwards he closed the blinds and fell asleep on my shoulder. 

 I get one last kiss before Ray leaves. Turning over, I close my eyes but
lying in bed holds no appeal without him. It isn't long before I'm up,
pulling on sweatpants and a T-shirt - weekend clothes - and finished my
morning ablutions. Walking through to the living room, I can see last
night's supper dishes on the coffee table where we left them. I carry them
into the kitchen and wash up, thinking about the hockey game this
afternoon. A week ago, Ray noticed that there was a game on and mentioned
it to me, thinking I might like to watch it. One of the teams sounded
familiar and after I recognised that it was Mark's team, it took me a few
minutes to decide whether or not to mention this to Ray. Eventually I
blurted it out to him and he shrugged and said okay. Well, naturally. I
don't know what kind of reaction I was expecting. Ray knows that Mark was
the first man I ever had sex with, though I suppose we were only boys, and
it was more fooling around than actual sex. Just round behind the back of
the barn near where we used to play hockey, kissing,
touching...experimenting. But it counted to me. Ray also knows that Mark
and I are still friends, despite the fact that we've both changed over the
years. So I don't know what I expected from Ray - jealousy? A sudden
refusal to watch the game? But as it turned out, he was fine with it. 

 I stack the dishes on the draining board and, at a loss for something to
do, I move through into the living room and start tidying aimlessly. The
book I'm reading is buried under magazines on the coffee table and I
stretch out with it on the couch. I'm more tired than I thought; it seems
like only a minute or so before I feel Ray stroking my hair and realise I
must have fallen asleep. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty." He sounds amused. "Looks
like the Mountie Police have been again - the dishes are done and the
place is a lot tidier than I remember it. Do you want some tea?" Nodding,
I rub my eyes and sit up to watch him over the back of the couch. "What
were your errands?" "Junk food shopping." He turns to grin at me. "Can't
watch a game without it." Opening a large brown paper sack on the counter,
he pulls out a one-pound bag of M&Ms, a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of
something luridly orange. Frankly, it looks radioactive. My face gives me
away, as Ray says "Cheese dip" and turns the jar so I can see the label.
Personally, I doubt it's ever seen real cheese in its life but I hold my
tongue as Ray continues. "But I know you're not into my kind of junk food,
so you get something different." He comes to sit by me on the edge of the
couch, setting my tea on the table. Kissing me and talking against my
mouth, he drops things into my lap.
"Peaches...strawberries...raspberries...cherries...apricots...and..." A
handful of tawny, papery things patter over the bags on my legs. "Chinese
gooseberries." "What?"
 "They're cool, the guy in the shop showed me how to eat them." So saying,
he picks one up, unpeels the thin brown leaves and feeds me the
marble-sized, citrusy fruit. Unused to people spoiling me, I smile at him
and swallow hard to clear the tight feeling in my throat. It crosses my
mind that perhaps Ray is a little more jealous of Mark than he admitted.
"What?" Ray looks at me intently. "What're you thinking?" "Thank you for
all this."
 "And? Come on Ben, you can ask me anything, you know that." "Are you...do
you have a problem with, I mean...not that it's important, really-" "Ben!"
He grabs my forearm and shakes it slightly. "Just ask me, don't you ever
ever think there's something you can't say to me." I know my stammering
and beating about the bush annoys him so I take a deep breath and ask. I
wish I could be more direct, more like him. "Ray...are you jealous of
Mark?" 
 He drops his eyes, then looks up at me as he answers honestly. "Yeah. A
little. In the same kinda way that you're jealous of Stella. You know
there's no reason to be but you can't help it." I can't deny that, and the
only way I can think to answer the first part is to pull him close and
kiss him deeply, showing him just how important he is to me. 

 Things get fairly involved, until Ray glances at the clock and pulls
back. "Whoa, starting soon." He tries to speak casually but I can hear the
husk in his voice and through the denim of his jeans I can see his
erection. So I smile up at him, flicking my tongue over my lower lip, and
slide my hand between his legs. Groaning, he leans back down to kiss me
again, pushing my shirt up so he can run his thumbnail along the line of
hair below my navel. "No." He sits up and clears his throat. "You wanted
to watch this and I'm not going to make you miss it." Clearly I don't get
a say in this. I suspect it also has something to do with his desire to
change out of his now too-tight jeans. Even so, I protest when he tries to
get up, holding onto his leg and trying to pull him back down. Grinning at
me, he unpeels my fingers from his inner thigh, calls me a horny bastard
and heads into the bedroom, reappearing a few minutes later in sweatpants
and a sleeveless shirt. He knows how much I like this shirt - I like
seeing his arms, the muscular strength of him and his tattoo. 

 Sitting up, I scoot up the couch to make room for him as he comes over,
juggling bags and a beer. "Hey hey hey, where're you going?"
 "You'll want to sit down-"
 "Get back where you were, Constable."
 Puzzled, I do so and he arranges all the various things on the floor
before simply draping himself on top of me, his head resting on my chest.
"Oh," I murmur happily, and touch his hair. "Too heavy?" I can feel the
vibration of his voice against my stomach. "No, not at all." Feeling
sentimental, I kiss the top of his head. "Perfect, actually." "Cool."
Flicking on the television, he grabs my hand and squeezes it briefly as he
skips through the channels. When he stops on the right one, we find that
there are 15 minutes of pre-game interviews with various sports
commentators to sit through. Well, we could sit through them, or then
again we could- "Hey." Ray kisses my chin to get my attention. "Want to
make out?" 

 By way of an answer I put my hand on the back of his neck and draw him
towards me, spreading my legs for him to lie more comfortably between
them. Dief takes advantage of our preoccupation with each other and jumps
onto the armchair, curling up and sighing loudly. I relax under Ray's
weight, melting back into the couch and sliding my hands up under his
shirt to touch warm, bare skin. Tipping my head back as he kisses my neck,
I let my hands wander lower to grab his ass, pulling him down against me
as I rock my hips up. He chuckles against my collarbone, reaching down to
cup my half-hard penis through my sweatpants. "I'd never have time to get
you off before it starts," he murmurs against my mouth, his hand stroking
and squeezing between my legs. As I reach under his pants to palm his
hipbones, making incoherent noises against his lips, I doubt the truth of
that statement. He nips my earlobe. "But I'll suck you off in the break."
 Blindly, I reach for his mouth, kissing him hard and shoving my hands
down the front of his underwear, holding his testicles and feeling their
warm, heavy weight in my palm. He rocks into my hand, his cock lengthening
and hardening against my wrist. God, I love the noises he makes when we do
this. 

 "Mmmph," Ray frees himself reluctantly, tugging my hand out of his
shorts. "It's starting." His pupils are dilated, the blue of his irises
just a thin rim around the edge, and he has a familiar flush along his
cheekbones that my body recognises and reacts to. But looking at the
television, I see the players skating out onto the ice and so I let Ray
go. He lies back down on my chest, then lifts his head to grin at me.
"What?" I ask.
 "You're kinda digging me in the stomach here." He smirks and puts his
head back down, rubbing his hand along my ribs whilst I'm still trying to
think of a reply. 

 The first period passes uneventfully, apart from Ray teasing me by
feeding me fruit. When I try to reciprocate, he eats it and insists on
licking each of my fingers clean, slowly and thoroughly, until I'm ready
to jerk off or kill him. Halfway through the period, Ray gets up to use
the bathroom and I take the opportunity to get a glass of water and think
calming thoughts about glacier formation and ice fields. Buck Frobisher.
God, that works. That definitely works. I'm able to lie back down feeling
normal, and when Ray starts to run his hand up my thigh, looking devilish,
I catch his wrist and kiss his palm. "Please. Don't tease me. Unless you
want to watch the rest of the game with me 'digging you in the stomach'."
Sniggering, he wriggles against me but refrains from tormenting me for the
rest of the period. Mark's team scores twice, and Mark himself is sent off
briefly for high-sticking. The opposing team scores once. 

 Despite myself, I get caught up in the game and it's only when I look at
the clock and realise that there are only a few more minutes of this
period left that I remember Ray's promise for the intermission. The thing
is, he knows as well as I do that an ice hockey game has two
intermissions. He didn't say which one he meant and frankly, it didn't
occur to me to ask, seeing as how most of the blood in my body wasn't in
my brain... Blood starts to slide under my skin at the memory and I feel
myself getting hard. I try to press my hips away from Ray - not wanting
him to notice and think that I may be assuming or...expecting something,
but to no avail. Lifting his head he smiles and slides his hand under my
T-shirt to rub my stomach. He's not helping. 

 There are one or two near-goals towards the end of the period, but only a
small part of my brain notices this. The rest is wondering if it's a sign
of obsession that even the feel of Ray's stomach muscles pressed against
my own seems erotic. Eventually, with a minute to go, he starts playing
with the drawstring cord of my sweatpants, fingers brushing my half-hard
penis and making me shift under him. When the siren finally sounds he
looks up at me, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and kisses me without saying a
word. He tastes of the tortilla chips, beer, chocolate and faint traces of
fruit. And I have to admit, the cheese sauce tastes a lot better off the
roof of his mouth than it looked in the jar. Kissing me deeply, one hand
up my T-shirt fingering my nipples, the other one down the front of my
sweatpants stroking my cock, trying to turn me on. Not that he needs to
try very much. Within a short time I'm hard, moaning against his mouth and
thrusting into his hand. "God." He bites my lower lip and holds it gently
between his teeth. "You're so hot like this. I could tease you all
afternoon." His thumb rubs across the head of my cock and I buck up into
his hand. "Ray..." "But I won't. Lift up."
 This last is whispered against my lips and I cant my hips upward as he
tugs my sweatpants down around my knees. Ray kisses his way down my
stomach, pushing my T-shirt up to plant a kiss on my breastbone and traces
his fingers lightly along the creases where thighs join torso. "Ray..." I
moan his name again and feel his stubble against the inside of my knee as
he nuzzles me. "Relax. Just enjoying the view."
 Half-sitting up, I find him looking at my erection appreciatively as he
kisses my leg gently. As usual, I can feel my face heating, always
slightly and inexplicably embarrassed by Ray's willingness to lie and
stare at my genitals for hours. When he nudges me to lie back down and
eventually, finally, shuffles up and licks the head of my cock - letting
it slide over his lower lip and onto his tongue - I tip my head back and
groan at the ceiling. I can't imagine how I used to survive without this -
without Ray and his love, his generosity, his bright, mischievous
nature... 

 He sets a faster pace with hand and mouth and I am unable to resist
reaching down and dragging my hands roughly across his shoulders. Mark
never liked it if I touched his hair or face when he was doing this. "Let
go of my ears, Ben, I can figure out what to do," he used to joke, but
there was seriousness behind it. I never tried it with Victoria but
looking back, I suspect I would've had the same response. But Ray never
tells me "No", not in bed. He told me after the first time we had sex that
I could ask him anything, and could ask him for anything, anything at all.
I admit that I've shamelessly taken advantage of that, pushing him
farther, wanting to know everything about him. 

 Suddenly, his mouth slides off me, leaving me hanging. Looking down my
body at him, I see him stick two fingers in his mouth and wet them
thoroughly and deliberately, well aware that I'm watching. The knowledge
of where they're going is almost as arousing as the feeling, a few seconds
later, when he presses them inside me and reaches to stroke across my
prostate. He starts sucking me again, hard and fast, squeezing my
testicles gently and flexing his fingers against that small spot up inside
me... And a few seconds before orgasm hits, I give into the temptation to
weave my fingers through his hair and hold him there. Hold him right there
as I arch up and cry out, bucking into his mouth and squeezing my eyes
shut so tight I see purple flashes behind my eyelids. 

 When I come back to myself, Ray's kissing my stomach and trying to pull
my sweatpants up. I try to help, lifting my hips with jellied legs and
pulling him close for a kiss. "Here, let me..." But my hands are gently
batted away when I try to work them under the waistband of his pants.
"S'okay Ben. Look, the game's started again." Sure enough, the players are
skating out onto the ice but my attention is more focused on Ray...and the
erection I can feel against my thigh. "But you're still...you didn't-"
 "It's okay," he repeats. "I can wait." "But you hate waiting-"
 I'm distracted by sudden noise form the television - one of the teams has
scored. Looking closer, I find it's the opposing team, bringing the score
to a draw. When I turn back to Ray, making another determined effort to
persuade him to let me touch him, he catches my hands. His eyes are
tightly shut. "Ray?"
 "Ssshh, don't say anything. I'm thinking of Dief." "What? But why-"
 "It...helps."
 As he says this I notice he's softened against my leg and horrified
comprehension dawns. "Dear God, Ray!" "What's the problem? You should be
more worried if I think about him when I'm trying to get it up." He
cackles at the (probably appalled) look on my face. No. He has to be
joking. For a few minutes, there's no sound in the room save the noise of
the television but eventually the words rise irresistibly to my lips. "Do
you really think about-"
 "No!" He whacks my ribs. "Jeez, of course not, that's just sick. Just
'cause you have a thing for caribou..." I make no effort to contradict
him. I've been told one should always keep a little mystery in a
relationship. 

 Neither of the teams scores in the rest of the second period, though
there are several near-misses. The two teams are evenly matched in skill,
which makes for an interesting game. Or it would do, if it weren't more
interesting to tease Ray. I'm beginning to see why he does it so much.
It's fun. 

 For example, when one of the players is lining up to take a penalty shot,
I stretch lazily and casually let my hands come to rest on Ray's ass. He
tolerates this but when I start to caress him, he plucks them off
deliberately, trying for a stern look. "That's enough. Mr.
I-Already-Got-Mine." 

 Or soon after this, when my curiosity finally gets the better of me and I
reach down to swipe my finger through the dubiously-named cheese dip. Sure
enough, it tastes as bizarre as I thought it might but it's worth it to
see Ray's expression as he watches me suck it slowly off my index finger.
I get a kiss for that, long and thorough as he searches out the taste in
my mouth. 

 The middle period is absorbing and, for me at least, passes quickly. I'm
not sure how quickly it passes for Ray. Obviously not fast enough, judging
from how he kisses me when the siren sounds for the second break. A few
breathless minutes follow, during which time I'm finally allowed to tug
his shirt off to rub my thumbs across his nipples. They're very sensitive,
as I found out the first time we made love, and now Ray moans into my
mouth and rocks his hips against me. "What do you want?"
 I have to turn my head to murmur into his ear; his face is burrowed hard
into the crook of my neck as he squirms against me, obviously not knowing
whether to push forward against the hand still on his chest or backwards
against the one on his ass, under his sweatpants. "What do you want?" I
repeat, and his answer comes muffled as a groan. "Your mouth,
Ben...please, just your mouth-" Still lying underneath him, I start to
shuffle down the sofa but am stopped by another word from him. "Just,
y'know, if you want to."
 Amazed, I look up at him now sitting astride my ribs, face flushed and
hair more experimental than ever. "If I want to? Ray, why would I not want
to?" "I just don't want you to think that you have to 'cause you owe me or
something. I mean, no-one's keeping score here." "Don't be an idiot, Ray."
 I continue to shuffle down under him, tugging at his pants and underwear,
and stop when my mouth is at just the right place for him to lean forward
and... "Really?"
 "Mmm-hmm." The only sound I can make as my mouth is already half-full of
him. "Don't...Jesus God, Ben, look at you...don't let me go too fast for
you." My only response is to plant my hands firmly on his ass, pulling
gently until he falls forward onto his elbows, his knees jammed under my
armpits. He rocks tentatively into my mouth, gasping against the sofa
cushions, already leaking enough that I have to swallow once or twice.
It's unlikely he'll last long; he's been kept waiting all through the
second period. Sure enough, he's soon thrusting into my mouth - his ass
flexing under my hands - panting and writhing bonelessly. When I draw my
fingers down between his cheeks he moans my name loudly and comes almost
immediately, taking us both by surprise. 

 Gently now, I let my mouth slide off him and tip him onto his back. He
sits up, or tries to, looking wild and utterly edible, with his pants
still around mid-thigh and if I thought his hair was experimental before
it was nothing on what it is now. "Sorry, sorry." He pants, still trying
to get his breath. "Kind of, uh, not my best performance there, I kinda-"
A kiss silences him effectively, something I've learnt over these past few
weeks, though not something I'm about to try at the station. "I thought
no-one was keeping score?" I tease him gently whilst tugging his
sweatpants back up, and lean in to kiss him again. When he tries to
protest I nudge him back down flat on the sofa so I can lie across him, my
head on his collarbone and my fingers curled round his silver bracelet.
"Love you." I'm not sure which of us said it. It doesn't matter; he knows
I love him and I know he feels the same. 

 Our positions reversed now, we watch the final period. 

 Mark's team wins the game. 

 FIN 

End Bodycheck by Kat: krystalz42@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.