Triptych, by Latonya  For those who groove on Turnbull...and who are
open-mined:

 See, this is what happens when you have a certain box, but you discover
that it expands. This started out in response to something Amy B. wrote in
one of her stories, then I finally finished reading all of Hamlette's lush
little opus, and I understood that I loved Turnbull more than I realized.

 Disclaimers: On this whole 'Alliance owns them' thing, all I have to say
is this -- it's just important that *Alliance* believes that.
 Pairings: Well...read the title.
 Synopsis: Time-wise, this happens after the events in Asylum. Ray goes to
the Consulate. Chief Cat Thatcher is away and he finds a pair of Mountie
mice......
 Archiving: Hexwood; anywhere else, please ask first

 NC-17 for m/m interaction (of a sort) and some off-color language; not
betaed so, all mistakes are mine. Feedback muchly wanted and greedily
slurped at LaToot@aol.com

 For Amy B., Kasha and Te

 Triptych
 by LaT
 

 Renfield Turnbull opened the door of the Canadian Consulate to the
smiling face of Ray Kowalski. He smiled back. 

 "Detective Vecchio. Welcome back to Canada." 

 "Turnbull. What's shakin'?" Ray's eyes swept the foyer and main hallway
as he stepped inside. 

 "Nothing that I am aware of, Detective. The Consulate's structural
integrity is quite sound." Turnbull was still smiling, his handsome face
open and cheerful. 

 Ray stifled the smart-ass remark he started to make. As much as he loved
to occasionally pull Renfield's chain, Turnbull wasn't the Mountie he came
to play with. Although it *was* awfully easy to get Turnbull flustered.
Maybe later. 

 "Where's Fraser?" 

 "He is the main conference room, filling out today's 1039B report." 

 "And the Ice Queen?" It was never lost on Ray that neither Fraser nor
Turnbull ever corrected him when he referred to Meg Thatcher as the Ice
Queen. 

 "She's gone for the rest of the day." 

 "So...it's just the two of you, then?" Ray's smile became more something
Turnbull wasn't sure he needed to try and name. 

 "Well, yes...and now you, of course, Detective." Turnbull's eyebrows
lifted slightly when Ray's smile widened. 

 Ray found Benton Fraser seated at the head of the conference table,
signing his name to a stack of type-written reports. Benton glanced up and
smiled at the other man before speaking. 

 "Good evening, Ray. I trust your day went well." 

 "It got better as soon as I saw you." Ray set his sunglasses on the table
as he stood behind Benton. He leaned down and kissed the top of Fraser's
head, his tongue sliding out to press through the thick hair and against
the scalp. 

 "Ray..." Benton was interrupted by the sensation of Ray's breath on his
temple, then on his cheekbone. He completely forgot what he had intended
to say when the other man used his tongue to trace the outline of his ear.


 "Sorry, Ben. You were saying?" Ray's face was right next to his and when
Benton turned to look at the other man, their lips were only inches apart.
"Lemme think, probably something like 'Ray, this is the Consulate and we
couldn't possibly here' which I...don't get because I'm pretty sure you've
thought about us doin' it here. I know *I* have." 

 Benton's normally pale skin flushed a soft, delicate pink. What Ray said
was absolutely true, but that didn't make him feel any less embarrassed. 

 Ray straightened up. "In fact, I have this fantasy about taking you right
here on this table, which has always seemed kinda fittin' to me,
considerin' that I figured out that I wanted you while I was camped out
here." 

 Benton opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when Ray's lips brushed
against his own. Without breaking the kiss, Ray pulled him to his feet,
which made the kissing more comfortable for both of them. 

 Ray slid his tongue across Benton's lips, was rewarded with their
opening. They tasted each other - exploring the smooth-roughness of
tongue, sampling the sharp hardness of teeth. Benton tangled his fingers
in the blond silk of Ray's hair, raking them through the spiky softness.
Today, Ray tasted tangy and spicy all at once and Benton sucked the inside
of his mouth avidly. 

 The kiss was broken briefly as Ray took in some air and the sight of
Benton, lustful and hungry. He closed his eyes and dove in for another
kiss. He started walking Benton backwards, the two of them moving together
gracefully despite having their eyes closed. Benton backed up and up and
up, until he was stopped short by something solid. Solid, but not flat.
Solid, not flat, very warm, and most definitely *not* the wall. Something
where the wall should have been. 

 Ray laughed into his mouth and Benton shuddered at the vibration, and at
the sensation that whatever he'd backed into was enveloping him. Moving,
wrapping around, caressing. But Ray was still kissing him, so it most
decidedly was not Ray. There was only one other person at the Consulate. 

 Turnbull had been startled enough when he stepped into the conference
room to find Ray kissing Constable Fraser. He...should have left. Said
something. Made his presence known. Instead, he stood there. Transfixed.
He was startled some more when Ray looked right at him...and kept on
kissing Constable Fraser. But he was wholly and utterly unprepared to find
himself pinned between the wall and his superior officer, held in place by
his superior officer's unofficial partner. 

 The sensible reaction, the one he *should* have had, left him completely.
Instead of extricating himself, he froze for the amount of time it took
him to realize that Benton Fraser was pressed against him from
head-to-toe, which was roughly 10 seconds. At that point, reason, logic
and common fucking sense failed. Instinct took over. 

 Renfield slid his hands around to the front of Constable Fraser's body,
pulled the other man even closer, and was somewhat stunned to find there
actually was some space between them. As Ray was being entirely selfish
with the Constable's mouth, Renfield settled for Benton's -- and at this
point and under the circumstances, a first name acquaintance seemed
entirely appropriate - cheek, taking a long, slow stroke with his tongue
across the warm skin. His right hand snaked through Benton's hair, gently
holding his head in place where it rested against Renfield's shoulder.
Renfield took another generous lick, smiled when he felt Fraser's hand on
his thigh. Emboldened, he used his other hand to reach for Ray's head,
pulling the two of them apart and angling for Benton's mouth before Ray
could protest. 

 Kowalski chuckled. He occupied himself with the perfectly exposed line of
Fraser's jaw, felt someone's hand at the small of his back, beneath his
jacket. He licked the jaw line and the fingers on his back flexed a
little. Fraser. 

 Flawlessly sandwiched and being marvelously kissed and licked, Benton
kneaded Ray's lower back with one hand while massaging Turnbull's thigh
with the other. His head rested perfectly on Renfield's shoulder, the
difference in their heights revealing itself a wondrous blessing. Turnbull
tasted nothing like Ray, but he tasted very, very good. Minty, creamy and
something else that was probably just Renfield. Benton moaned and Turnbull
swallowed it whole. 

 "My turn," said Ray before breaking the Mounties apart by pulling on
Turnbull's head as Turnbull had done to him. He could kill two birds with
one lanyard by kissing Turnbull because he'd have to press even closer to
Fraser to do it. As Ray slipped his tongue into Renfield's mouth, Benton
watched, fascinated and aroused, taking the reprieve to catch his breath
before another onslaught. 

 Ray started rocking his hips against Fraser while he kissed Turnbull, and
Benton began rocking back into Renfield. Turnbull was reminded then, that
it was Fraser between them and he broke the kiss with Ray to get to
Benton's mouth again. Ray, however, had the same idea and he moved a
little faster. To console himself with the temporary loss, Renfield
started moving his hips in counterpoint to the rhythmic pulse of Fraser
against him. He felt himself harden, wondered if Benton could tell,
wondered if Benton was, too. He took his hand out of Fraser's hair, slid
it between Benton and Ray, and under the tunic that was twin to his own.
Whether it was because of him, because of Ray or because of both of them,
it made no difference. Fraser was gloriously hard. 

 So was Ray, and he pressed himself against the unexpected hand. He opened
his eyes while still kissing Benton. Renfield's eyes met his and he felt a
hand working the fly on his jeans. He also felt himself get even harder,
confronted, as he was, with the sight of *both* of them so close together.
How Thatcher concentrated on her work was beyond him. 

 He broke the kiss with Benton when long, warm fingers started playing
with his cock. He wasn't sure which of them was doing it, but God, it felt
good. Renfield took advantage of Ray's momentary stupor to reclaim
Benton's mouth, was rewarded for his efforts with a hot, wet, stunningly
powerful tongue. He shivered. 

 Benton brought his hand from Turnbull's thigh, slid it behind himself and
started working with the button and zipper of Renfield's riding pants,
silently congratulating himself on his dexterity. At the same time he
reached inside to find the thick, rock-solid cock, someone else's hand -
Ray's - was doing its own walking tour of *his* stiff, swollen penis,
sliding it free of two layers of clothes. 

 It amazed Ray that through the rapidly approaching sensory overload, he'd
managed to discern that it was Turnbull playing with his cock while he
stroked Fraser, and, judging by the extremely happy look on Turnbull's
face, Fraser had a handful of him. He couldn't stop himself from
commenting. 

 "So...it's who comes first, huh?" 

 "Wasn't that an Abbott and Costello routine?" Renfield asked, truly
surprised his voice sounded even half-way normal as the graceful hand
between his legs sped up slightly. 

 "Probably not in this universe, Turnbull. In some Twilight Zone-meets-the
Playboy mansion universe, but..." Ray paused because as the grip around
his cock tightened. 

 "Okay, you both need to shut the hell up," said Benton, clearly in no
mood to have the intensely obscene pleasure he was experiencing
interrupted by an impromptu comedy routine. 

 Ray did some grip-tightening-on-hot-cock of his own, liking the grunt it
pulled from the Mountie closest to him. "Oh, listen to Mr. Smarty-Pants in
the Middle. You are not the boss of me." He stroked a little faster for
emphasis. 

 Benton smiled wickedly. "No, but I *am* the boss of him...and if I
ordered him to stop what's he's doing, that's precisely what he'd have to
do." He rocked harder into Ray's hand for emphasis. 

 Renfield couldn't resist the opportunity to try and stop the impending
war of willful personalities. He snaked his tongue from the top of
Benton's cheekbone to his temple. "But you aren't going to give such a
spiteful order now, are you, Sir?" Another sweet lap of tongue for
emphasis. Benton let out a low, contented moan. 

 "Didn't think so," said Ray, winking at Renfield. Silence ruled for
several more minutes, nothing but soft grunts, groans and moans echoing
off the conference room walls. They stroked in surprising rhythm with each
other, Ray setting the speed on Benton, who matched with his grip on
Renfield, who in turn, gifted Kowalski with his own tempo. The quickening
of Turnbull's breathing cued all of them that if they were playing 'who
comes first' he was going to win. Benton couldn't help but smile as he
felt the tell-tale tightening and furious humping against his hand. 

 "Oh, *God*..." was all Renfield said as he came all over Fraser's expert
fingers. The grip he had on Ray became less certain and less rhythmic but
Ray's more selfish instincts took over and he ferociously pumped into
Turnbull's hand until he let loose his own warm, sticky rush. 

 "Uh...*fuck*," he managed, leaning into Benton more to support himself
than anything else. 

 Clever and still-thinking despite the fact that he was certain he'd lost
his mind, Benton brought his clean hand up to brace himself by reaching
around and holding on to the back of Renfield's neck. He fucked madly into
Ray's still-clenched fist, and felt the tickling of his release start
somewhere in the vicinity of his toes and rapidly move upward from there.
Normally the most articulate of the three of them, he simply growled, loud
enough to send the sound dancing off every wall on the first floor, as he
came, the orgasm rocketing through him. 

 It startled him awake. In his sleep, he'd gotten half out of his
long-johns somehow. His long, strong fingers were wrapped around his
jerking, spurting cock. Instinctively, he inhaled, hoping that he'd
actually detect their scents. He smelled nothing but his own arousal and
release. His eyes swept the surroundings even as his hand slowed its
furious movement. 

 Benton laid back on the cot. His hand was still, his stomach slick with
semen and sweat. He absently brought his index and middle fingers to his
mouth, lazily sucking them clean as he waited for his heart to slow down
to something approximating a normal beat. He was alone in his room at the
Consulate. No Ray and no Turnbull. That knowledge left him feeling
oddly...bereft. When he trusted himself to stand, he made his way to the
bathroom to clean up. A smile curved his lips as he found himself hoping
that when he went back to sleep, the dream would return.

 END.

 *********
 Latonya
 
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