"What a fucking lousy day."
I stand at the window and stare miserably at the rain coming down so hard and so thick you can barely see across the street.
I hate when it rains. Hate it with a passion.
Why? Cause when it rains, I start thinking. Start thinking about the past, about all the fucking mistakes I made with Stella, and it depresses the hell out of me.
Normally, I'd clear out of here faster than a speeding bullet and head over to Fraser's to shoot the breeze. But not today. Turnbull called in sick at the Consulate and Fraser offered to work his shift.
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face when I think of my partner. He's more than just my partner and friend-he's my heartmate.
I came up with that word one afternoon lying in Fraser's arms and it pretty much sums up what that man means to me. He's the mate my heart's been searching for all these years. I used to think Stella was the one, but the moment I saw Fraser-the moment I put my arms around him and hugged him close, I knew-knew deep in my heart, that he was it. My kismet, my destiny, my one and only.
And it sure as hell didn't matter that true love came strolling into my life packaged as a sexier-than-hell, hot-blooded member of the male population. I don't believe in all that moral crap that says same-sex relationships are a sin. Bullshit. Love is love, and if it comes with a dick instead of tits, so be it.
Drawing a smiley face in the condensation that's formed on the window, I suddenly find myself chuckling and the bad mood I greeted the day with is gone, gone, gone. All because of that damn Mountie.
Flopping down on my couch, I lift my pet turtle off the floor and sit him on my chest. "I'm crazy, right, Mr. T? Crazy in love."
Me and Fraser have only been together a few months, and I can't believe how damn horny I get every time I see him. Hell, some days at work all he has to do is turn those blue eyes of his in my direction and I nearly trip over my own feet dragging him into the nearest closet for a little tonsil hockey. Other times, it's the way he brushes his fingers across the back of my neck or the way his voice hitches when he says my name that makes my toes curl.
Those evenings when we hang out at my apartment, with only Dief and Mr. T as witnesses, we're like two houses on fire. Neither one of us can get enough of touching and kissing and hugging. God, I love the way Fraser tastes. The place behind his ear, the inside of his elbow, the dip in his spine right where it meets his ass-I could spend hours licking those areas.
And don't even get me started on how hot and sweaty Fraser makes me. Who would have thought Mr. Prim and Proper of Her Majesty's Royal Canadian Mounted Police was so into biting? Now, I'm not talking about biting hard enough to make me bleed. Hell no, Fraser ain't that kinky. No, my man likes to drive me insane with the barely-there love bites he places all over my body and I mean all over my body. It's a wonder my howling hasn't brought the roof down on us. Just thinking of his teeth on my skin is enough to make my heart kick into overdrive.
Yet, despite all this wild craziness, Fraser and I have never done it. Never gotten completely naked and fucked.
With a sigh of pent-up frustration, I rub Mr. T under his chin. "But not for long, right? I figure another week or two of us making out on the sofa and we'll both be more than ready to dance the horizontal mambo."
A knock on my door brings me to my feet and I go to see who could possibly be crazy enough to get out in this kind of weather.
"Fraser! Speak of the devil." Smiling at my partner, I place Mr. T on the floor.
Fraser stands in the doorway, his hat in his hand, rain spilling off the brim and making a puddle on the floor near his feet. "Good afternoon, Ray. This inclement weather seems to have put Inspector Thatcher in a state of melancholy and she decided to close the consulate early. I hope you don't mind if Dief and I visit with you for a while?"
"Mind? Why in the hell would I mind?" Dief flies past me and snuggles down in the pile of old quilts Ma Vecchio gave me last winter. "I was just thinking about you, Frase." After planting a quick kiss on his cheek, I pull him inside and help him strip off his rain gear. Making a short detour to my bathroom to throw all the wet stuff in the tub, I rush back to join Fraser on the couch. "Have you had lunch? Want me to make you something?"
Fraser takes my hand and plays with my fingers. "Constable Turnbull was quite appreciative when I volunteered to cover his shift and he had hot cocoa and sandwiches delivered to the consulate as a thank-you gesture." Fraser lifts my hand and nips lightly on my inner wrist. "I am quite full, Ray."
Suddenly I forget how to breathe. "Too . . . umm . . . too bad it's raining. We could've taken Dief to the park and worked off that lunch you ate."
"A most excellent idea, Ray." Fraser pushes the sleeve of my shirt up my arm and follows after it with his mouth.
"But . . . but it's raining, Frase. We can't go outside." Oh shit! He's biting my neck.
"Exactly, Ray. It's raining."
I find it extremely hard to concentrate on our conversation, especially when Fraser's fucking my ear with his tongue. "Huh?"
"What better way to spend a rainy day than working out with you?"
It doesn't take the brain of a rocket scientist to figure out what my man's hinting at. In seconds flat, the floor of my apartment is littered with the uniform of one very aroused Mountie and is soon joined by a shirt that now has no buttons and jeans that will never zip closed again.
Wearing only his socks, Fraser hauls me off the couch and pins me to the wall. His hands are clutching at my ass while his mouth marks the skin along my shoulders. Our dicks are getting real chummy with each other when Fraser whispers the magic words.
"I want you, Ray. Want to fuck you."
Great balls of fire! My lover is a mind reader.
"Yeah, Fraser. Fuck me. Fuck me right through the floor."
I stand at the window and stare at the rain coming down so hard and so thick I still can't see across the street. My body is covered in love bites and Canadian cum is dripping down the back of my legs. At my feet is a snoring Mountie and the taste of his third orgasm is still fresh in my mouth.
Don'tcha just love 'em?