Ray lounges casually against the trunk of the GTO; legs splayed carelessly, propped up on one elbow.  In his left hand dangles a cigarette, filtered end damp from the occasional suck he gives it with his hot, swollen  lips.

His nude body is pale and gleaming against the black of the car; the cold metal raising goosebumps, making his nipples hard and attentive, his slick erection bobbing impatiently.  Through slitted eyes, he watches his lover stalk closer...

The Serge-clad figure shivered slightly as the warm breath of the man beside him caressed his neck.   A burning hot hand ran over his chest and flicked the jacket open easily, sliding inside to pinch a pale nipple through the thin undershirt.   A muffled moan emerged when a slick tongue explored the hard contour of his jaw.

"Rennyl," a deep voice whispered in his ear, "Call me Ben."

Fraser stood there awkwardly, clad only in his boots, Stetson covering his nude groin.   He looked longingly towards his Serge coat, draped over the back of a nearby chair, but never moved.  Tongue pushing against his bottom lip, he waited for further instructions.  He was, after all, a Mountie.

Across the room, Vecchio and Kowalski smiled in wicked agreement at the sight.  One twirled a pair of handcuffs casually on a finger, while the other toyed with a silken blindfold.   In the background, a clock ticked in the silent room.

The bed was rumpled.  Ray, stretched out among the green sheets like a lazy cat, drowsed.  His cross gleamed dully in the faint candlelight, sheltered by the sex-damp hair on his chest.  The silken tie, still connected to his right ankle, stretched his leg out, his calf muscles hard and taut, while the olive-toned globes of his ass curved sweetly down to meet the thigh.

Tiny drops of sweat beaded on his shoulders and nape, sliding provocatively down his spine.  His lover leans closer to take a taste....

Midnight.  Cool air flutters the curtains.  Two heads lay close on the narrow bed; a pale body covering the more slender form.   Their legs entangled as they keep each other warm.  Under the open window, the wolf watches the moon.

Fraser sprawls across the recliner, a nude leg thrown over either chair arm. Erection in his own hand, head thrown back, ecstasy on his face, he cries out his self-pleasure.  In front of him, Ray kneels, waiting for the first hot drops from his lover to hit his upturned face.

Fraser wove an intricate tale of partnership and destiny, recounting the arctic legend as he sipped his tea at Ray's dining room table. Hands moving gracefully, the story unfolded.

Across from him, chin propped on one hand, Ray listened to the compelling voice.  Eyelids slowly fluttering shut, he let the warm soft tones of his partner's voice caress him, until he slipped into snow-filled dreams. 

Fraser simply smiled and continued his tale, knowing that wherever Ray was, he was still listening.