Bigger than a Snapshot, not quite a Story. Feedback might get you a finished one. Warnings... hmmm.. yeah, sure. I guess.

The furniture had been pushed back and they stood in the middle of the room. The stereo speakers pulsed with a low sensuous beat.

'Come on, Benny, you have to loosen up.' Ray grabbed Fraser's hips with both hands and tried to move them in a circle eight figure. He got a lopsided rectangle. 'Jeez, do they insert the rod when you graduate from Mountie school?'

He tried again, unsuccessfully, while Fraser patiently allowed himself to be pushed about. Exasperated with his lack of success, Ray finally called for reinforcements. 'Kowalski!'

'Comin.' Ray strolled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He assessed the pair in the middle of the room, watching the bizarre little wrestling match and chuckled. 'Stick up his ass, eh?'

'All the way to the top.'

Fraser finally grunted, either protesting the abuse of his hips or their remarks, but didn't move away. Ray tossed the towel to the side and did a hipsway across the floor, lining himself up behind the Mountie. Pressing in tight, twining his fingers with Ray's, he leaned in and whispered in Fraser's ear. 'Relax. It'll be fun.'

Fraser opened his mouth but nothing came out but a sigh.

'Shhhh,' and Ray gently lapped at the sweaty skin beneath Fraser's ear, giving a gently suck and bite. 'It's easy, Frase. Just feel the music.' A subtle thrust of his hips sent Fraser's body rocking into the other man who took up the torment.

'Easy as pie, Benny.' Moving closer until he could feel Fraser's breath on his lips, licking his own and watching blue eyes follow the tip of his tongue. 'Trust us, like we trust you.' Tightening the grip of his hands, fingers still laced with his lovers', he slid his hips sideways. Fraser's followed and he made another noise, somewhere between a sigh and a little hiccupping pant.

Another bump of Ray's hips from behind, an answering one from in front, and slowly, somewhat awkwardly, they were moving in time to the beat.


It was twilight, but you almost feel the waves of heat still rising up from the cement. The cop, in casual slacks and jewel toned tank, was gesturing in irritation at the serge clad figure standing in front of him. The Mountie stood at attention, staring out at a distant point over the other man's shoulder. Sweat ran down his temples to his flushed cheeks, and then down his neck, wetting his tunic collar. Behind him the minute hand of the clock clicked one bit closer to quitting time.

The cop held open the door of the Riv enticingly and arched his brows. His nipples were hard; pointy little nubs responding to the cold wash of air conditioning from the car. Fluttering his hands like a game show prize girl, he highlighted the interior of the car. Looking longingly at the cool leather, the Mountie still stood firmly. Behind him, the clock readied it's chime.

The bulk of the overheated Mountie took up the back and Ray smiled encouragingly from the front seat. Hands gesturing at his throat, he invited his passenger to remove the heavy red coat. Cheeks burning brighter than the heat accounted for, the Mountie fumbled at his neck.

Ray faced forward and turned up the air, trying to give him some privacy and babbled about that day's work.

A gentle hand on Ray's shoulder told him it was okay to turn around.

Ray looked in a dazed stupor at the nude man sprawled across the backseat of the Riv. Creamy flesh, covered in a thin sheen of sweat was startlingly erotic against the black leather. A musk heavy scent permeated the air as the Mountie ran his huge hands over his slick chest, wiping away the moisture. Reverently, cautiously, Ray reached out a shaking hand to touch the hot skin laid so temptingly in front of him. Turnbull's name trembled on his lips.


The scent of roses filled the air, heavy and suffocating. Fraser moaned and felt the cloying scent trickle down his throat. Crushed red petals clung to his body, like clotting blood on an open wound.

"Please..." he panted out, "please... don't..."

The Italian stopped the rose's meandering path down the Mountie's smooth chest. Sharp thorns reluctantly released their hold on warm skin and Fraser cried out again, "don't..."

Ray leaned down, tenderly running his tongue over one of the numerous welling scratches, barely able to taste the copper beneath the pungent sweat. "Don't what?" and he flicked a hard nipple.

"Don't... stop... Please don't stop, Ray..."


Fraser smiled and accepted the small red carnation. "Thank you kindly, Renfield. Would you mind?" he asked and gestured towards his lapel.

Turnbull ducked his head shyly and helped pin the corsage on, smoothing his large hands over Fraser's jacket front and then shoulders. "You look very... smashing tonight," and he leaned down for a quick kiss. "We'd better get going, the lecture starts in less than an hour."

"Certainly. What are we seeing this evening?" Fraser allowed Turnbull to help him on with his coat and slipped through the Consulate door that the taller man held open for him.

"It's a new series being held at the University. 'Battlefield Strategies of Ancient Indonesia' begins tonight. I understand that the professor is very dull and the lecture hall very... dark."

Their hands brushed and fingers entwined briefly before breaking apart. "Perfect."


He started to rise but she waved a hand to sit and looked around. "Did I see Constable Turnbull pass by earlier?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Sir." Not quite a lie, because he hadn't known she'd seen him. He flexed his toes and gave her a bland look. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"No, no. I was just sure that I'd seen him..." She looked around his small office one more time. "Nevermind. I'm leaving now. I expect your report to be my desk when I arrive Monday," and was gone, without waiting for a response.

He rubbed his neck with a tired gesture and listened for the closing of the Consulate door. The click of the bolt being thrown assured him she'd left. He began to work steadily through a pile of paperwork, bare toes digging a little deeper into the warmth under them.

A small noise reached his ears as he shifted slightly, "Another hour, be still."

Turnbull sighed quietly again and curled himself a bit tighter around his master's feet.


It melted rather quickly, flooding his tongue with the bittersweet tang of dark chocolate. The chewy center took a few moments to deal with and when he finished he leaned forward, lips parted.

Fraser immediately pushed against them, plundering the damp heat, sucking his tongue; licking the slick roof and sides of his mouth. He could feel the scrape over his molars, the tiny vibrating noises low in Fraser's throat as he found little pockets of cocoa.

Finally Fraser pulled away, giving a gentle farewell tug to Turnbull's bottom lip. "Maple Cream," he guessed breathlessly.

Turnbull gave a low laugh and plucked another piece of candy from the heart shaped box.


"Here, behind your knee," he said, sliding his rough hands over the sensitive hollows as he talked about them. Pressed up and outward, letting them cup his shoulders as Ray's legs dangled down his back. "I'd be able to smell it when we're like this." A quick brush over the dark pucker with his finger. "When I'm here."

His lover sighed and tilted his hips wantonly.

Fraser ignored the unspoken invitation and ran the same finger down the sweat slick crease between hip and thigh. "Here," bending low and letting Ray's legs slip from his shoulders; following the path of his finger with his tongue. "So your scent would linger on my cheeks when your taste is on my tongue."

Another breathless sigh but Fraser moved on, his nails dragging lightly over the softly furred belly to the shallow dip of Ray's navel. He pressed a soft kiss to it, pointed tongue digging lightly. "Here."


Ray stared at the coil of black. He touched it gently, reverently, dry mouth trying to work up the spit to swallow.

"I." he started, but couldn't finish. There weren't any words, nothing he could say even if he wanted to. He just nodded and watched blunt fingers take the gift from his trembling hands. The sharp tang of the leather filled his nose.

Creamy soft and snug, the collar fit around his neck perfectly. Fraser adjusted the silver buckle as Ray stared at the shiny buttons on the chest in front of him. A butterfly touch to his chin and he looked into blue eyes.


It was an effortless slide to his knees.


"God, you're so hot, you know that?" A hard fist pressed into his belly, crushing the silk beneath it. The other hand dug cruel fingers into his chin, forcing him to face forward. "Look at yourself."

His own writhing body reflected in the floor length mirror. Thighs spread painfully wide over olive-toned ones, hips rocking rhythmically as he rode.

The silk caressed him with every movement, kissing his aching nipples, hem barely stroking his erect cock. Vecchio rubbed the fistful of shirt over his stomach. "Feels good against your skin, doesn't it," giving another swirl with the cloth and all Ray could do was agree.


His hands flew over the sketchpad, which was covered in fine black marks. A few more strokes here and there turned the jumble into the clean lines of a sleeping figure. Repeatedly glancing at the bed and down again, Renny started to add detail.

The soft puddle of sheets took shape, covering the backs of Ray's thighs, leaving an unbroken line between from the slope of his shoulders, to the arching globes of his butt. Arms stretched lazily above him took form, elbows bent, fingers curled under loosely. Pressing harder with the charcoal, a wild disarray of hair appeared, some strands curling over the sweep of Ray's lashes. Another stroke became the hint of pouty lips beneath the nose.

Dark smudges coating Ray's chin and cheeks made Renny frown, until he glanced down at his own hand, soiled black with the charcoal. He smiled at the memory.

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Disclaimer: These characters belong to Alliance and the author makes no claims upon them - no copyright infrigement is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and there is no monetary gain.