Hard to Wrap This
Author's Note: This selection was written for the ezine, The Many Holidays of the Sentinel -- published by My Mongoose Ezines
Rafe stood in the loftís kitchen, staring blindly at the refrigerator, his glass of wine forgotten in his hand. Holiday music played in the background and the detective found himself wishing for the unattainable. All I want for Christmas is my two best friends naked and fucking me into the New Year.
A familiar voice whispered in Rafeís ear. "Hey, handsome. Whatcha getting us for Christmas?"
Without thinking, the young detective answered automatically. "Me."
A plate of Meganís famous fruitcake hit the floor. "SHIT!"
Rafe snapped out of his stupor and stared into the sky blue eyes of Blair Sandburg. Fear snagged his heart as he caught sight of a stupefied Jim Ellison looking over the smaller manís shoulder. "I am so incredibly dead," the dark haired detective muttered.
Hands relieved Rafe of his wine goblet and maneuvered him around the mess in the kitchen, through the crowd of partygoers and into Blairís old room. The stunned detective could only look on helplessly as the door was shut and locked. Closing his eyes, Rafe begged the powers that be for a swift and painless death.
Silenced reigned for several seconds. Unsure as to why he was still alive and breathing, Rafe cracked open one eye and found the two men grinning at him. Glancing around, the slender detective confirmed he was the object of their frightening examination.
"UhÖ guys? Iím not sure what you thought you just heard and since I prefer to remain healthy and in one piece, may I plead holiday insanity and simply run for my life?"
Blair tapped Rafe on the lips, silencing the manís babbling. Glancing up at his lover, he chuckled. "He sure does talk a lot. Think you can handle another pair of rambling lips?"
Jim brushed his thumb over Rafeís bottom lip, which at the moment was on its way to the floor. "I think I can manage it, Chief. Especially if he knows how to put those damn fine lips to good use."
Blair advanced on Rafe, pushing the man back until, finally, the detective was forced to tumble backwards onto the roomís small bed. "I say we need to check out his rťsumť, confirm his qualifications." The anthropologist crawled on top of Rafe and removed the manís jacket and tie.
Rafe opened and closed his mouth several times, words of protest strangled into silence the moment Jim leaned down and licked his tongue inside Rafeís mouth. The young man groaned in disbelief.
"His mouth works quite well, Chief."
"Thatís your opinion. Remember, this is a joint operation. Let me verify your findings." Blair unbuttoned Rafeís silk shirt, slapping the manís interfering hands away. "None of that, Detective."
The anthropologist scraped his fingernails over Rafeís nipples and grinned with delight as the suddenly very vocal detective yelled his approval.
"Mighty loud, Jim. Might be a problem for your sensitive ears." Blair was unceremoniously pushed to the side.
"Not if you know how to control the volume." Jim gripped Rafe by his neck and hauled him up for a melt your Versachi underwear off kiss.
Rafe flopped back down on the bed, his brain sizzling into overload. He looked back and forth between Jim and Blair, quite sure that he had eaten a piece of Meganís fruitcake, died and gone to heaven. Or hell. Rafe knew he was on the verge of loosing his angelic status just from the way Blair was ogling his body and licking his lips.
"Look, Jim! Rafe brought us a present!" Blair pointed to the tenting fabric of Rafeís trousers.
Jim snorted. "How the hell do you wrap something like that?"
Gleefully, Blair rubbed his hands together. "Letís find out!"
The guests at the 2001 Ellison-Sandburg Christmas party still, to this day, talk about the roar that broke the sound barrier that night.