If I Could Know Within My Heart
"Hello, Ray. How may I help you?" Turnbull's face, upturned
and smiling, made Kowalski cringe a little.
Sometimes he thought that everybody must know about them, when Turnbull
smiled at him like that. And yet nobody had said anything. But what
were they supposed to say? Are you having sex with this man? Are you
fucking him and enjoying it? And what could he answer if they did?
Sure I am, and maybe one day I might even let him fuck me, just out of
curiosity? He shook his head helplessly. Both the questions and the
answer were impossible. Whatever anybody thought, nobody would say a
word.
Turnbull was looking at him quizzically. Kowalski made himself relax
and smile a bit. "I'm just here to see Fraser. I need him to help
me out with a stakeout tonight."
"Oh!" Turnbull blushed and looked flustered, even though they'd
had this out before. Fraser was his partner, not Turnbull, and apart
from the fact that he'd rather have Fraser behind him in a dangerous
situation than Turnbull anyway, it would look pretty strange if he suddenly
started taking Turnbull with him on stakeouts and cases.
All the same, a rush of guilt made him uncomfortable, and discomfort
made his voice more abrupt than usual. "Is he in?"
"Oh… oh, yes… I'll just see if he's available."
Turnbull rose awkwardly from behind the reception desk and stumbled over
his own feet. He regained his balance and fled down the narrow hallway,
disappearing into the murky depths of the Consulate.
Kowalski shook his head, exasperated, amused, and feeling strangely protective,
all at the same time.
*
Nothing was happening, and nothing was gonna happen. He'd had a feeling
about it as soon as they'd arrived, and his feelings were never wrong.
Not about stuff like this, anyway. Kowalski grinned to himself and snorted
softly. If his instincts about police work were as lousy as his instincts
about relationships, he would never have survived this long.
In the passenger seat Fraser turned his head and raised his eyebrows
enquiringly. They'd hardly spoken a word in the last hour.
"Nuthin'… I was just thinking."
"Oh."
Fraser seemed ready enough to fall back into silence, but suddenly Kowalski
felt like talking. Except how was he supposed to talk about what was
on his mind without giving himself away totally?
"Uh… Fraser? Say you were in love with someone, but you couldn't
have that person, but there was another person… somebody who maybe
loved you. And you kinda liked that person. Maybe… maybe it's
not love, but you like them a lot and…" he almost gave up then,
unable to say what he wanted to say. Not really having the courage to
blurt out the truth, not even to the Mountie, who he could trust more
than anyone else in the world, except maybe for Turnbull.
After a long silence Kowalski dragged his eyes away from his white-knuckled
grip on the steering wheel and looked across at his partner. Fraser
was staring down at his hands, clasped in an equally tight grip. His
cheeks were an almost deathly shade of pale.
"I'm sorry, Ray… I… I don't know what to say…"
The quiet voice faded into inaudibility.
After a moment's confusion, he realised what Fraser must be thinking.
"Oh, jeez, no. I don't mean…" Shit! How could he get
out of this? He returned his gaze to the safety of the steering wheel.
"I mean… I know… about you and Vecchio. But I didn't
mean… I wasn't talking about you and him… I mean, I
wasn't
making a move on you, or anything…" The silence from the other
side of the car made him wonder if he'd made an even worse blunder.
But he was as sure as he possibly could be, having never seen Fraser
and his alter ego together, that he was right about this.
Fraser didn't answer, and, sneaking another look at him, Kowalski was
suddenly absolutely certain about it. Fraser and Vecchio had been lovers.
Why else would Fraser have that look on his face? The blank look that
masked every emotion, except for one part of himself he couldn't control…
the eyes
that showed his awful suffering. The rigorously controlled
face remained down-turned, but Fraser began to blink rapidly.
Hell! He ought to do something, but what? In the face of his partner's
continued silence, Kowalski fought the urge to just get out of the car
and run. Instead he reached over and patted Fraser's shoulder a bit,
the same way Fraser had comforted him after the Beth Botrelle case.
Better than nothing, he supposed.
Eventually Fraser looked up and raised a finger to brush away the wetness
on his lashes. He smiled shakily. "I'm sorry, Ray." The
soft voice had thickened, the Canadian accent more noticeable than usual.
"I was rather leaping to conclusions."
"Yeah. You sure were." Kowalski grinned to show there were
no hard feelings.
Fraser smiled again. "What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"Nuthin'. It doesn't matter." Right now, his own uncertainties
were the last thing he wanted to talk about. "So, are we on for
the game on Saturday? You, me, the Ice Queen and Turnbull?"
"Oh yes. I believe Turnbull is especially looking forward to it."
Fraser hesitated, his brow wrinkling slightly. "Are you really
sure you want to go to a curling match, Ray?"
"Sure. Why not?" Kowalski shrugged and grinned. If all else
failed he could always start teasing Turnbull, that ought to be good
for some entertainment value…
*
There was a naked Mountie in his bed.
Kowalski stood staring down at his lover, wondering what on earth he
was doing there. He'd told Turnbull he'd be out on the stakeout all
night. He'd honestly thought he would be, until they'd got the call
that the man they were supposed to be watching had been arrested in a
drugs bust on the other
side of the city. For once he hadn't particularly
cared that his night had been totally shot to Hell. All he'd really
wanted was to get away from Fraser's pain, and to get some rest.
Asleep, Turnbull looked very different from the overly conscientious
Mountie of the daytime. His hair, released from its normal rigorous
control, stood in disorderly spikes, and his long, angular face was relaxed.
He was clutching a pillow to his chest.
A smile tugged at the corners of Kowalski's mouth. Turnbull had probably
looked like that when he was a kid, still sleeping with his teddy bear…
He sat on the edge of the bed and gently removed the pillow from his
lover's grasp.
The blue eyes opened, and Turnbull smiled up at him, blinking sleepily.
"Ray… what time is it?"
"About two-thirty. The stakeout got called off."
"Oh." It turned into a yawn. "Sorry, Ray." Turnbull
sat up and stretched, yawning again.
Kowalski shrugged. "That's OK. What are you doing here, anyway?
How'd you get in?"
"I wanted to catch you before you left, but I was too late."
Turnbull blushed. "The landlady let me in and I just... I hope
you don't mind."
He did, really. The domesticity of it made him nervous, which was why
he hadn't given his lover a spare key in the first place. Still, he
could hardly say that. They'd been seeing each other for nearly two
months now. In less than a week it would be Valentine's Day, and if
Turnbull had been a woman, he'd be planning a romantic dinner and an
expensive present. Well, a present, at least. His bank balance didn't
exactly stretch to expensive.
Instead of trying to sort out any of the chaotic emotions that churned
in his belly, Kowalski leaned forward and kissed the Canadian. Almost
before he knew what was happening, he was on his back, having his clothes
removed while a tongue thoroughly explored his mouth. Give a Mountie
an inch and… he fought back, wrestling with his lover until their
positions were reversed.
He grinned triumphantly down into laughing eyes and lowered his head
to rub his cheek back and forth against the soft, sparsely scattered
hairs on Turnbull's chest. A long sigh indicated approval, so he turned
his head just enough to capture a hard nipple between his lips. An even
more ecstatic sigh
greeted his actions. He nibbled gently at the
sensitive tip.
"Oh! Oh, Ray!" The body beneath his shuddered and the sturdy
hips thrust up against him. Large hands cupped his ass, drawing him
closer.
So, Turnbull wanted it hot and hard tonight? Well Kowalski was more
than willing to oblige him. Together, they managed to finish getting
his clothes off, though it would have been a lot faster if either one
of them had been working on it alone. Kowalski pushed the sheets aside
and slid down the much
larger body until his head was level with
Turnbull's groin.
He waited then, stroking the thick shaft and watching his lover's response.
Delaying the moment when he'd take its hardness into his mouth. Anticipating
the taste and the feel of it. He never would have thought he'd learn
to enjoy this, but it had been so easy. Sometimes it still shocked him
that he liked it so much. Not often, though. Not any more.
Turnbull was making helpless little noises, and Kowalski watched as his
cock twitched and pulsed, the cockhead gleaming wetly in the dim light.
Strange to be able to watch this very masculine response… he knew
his lover's cock as well as his own. Better, maybe. When he was on
the receiving end he was far too distracted to notice these details…
The scent of the pre-cum was starting to drive him crazy. Kowalski took
the cockhead between his lips and allowed his lover to plunge deep into
his mouth. Turnbull's body writhed beneath him, seeking its own pleasure,
and for a moment he had the urge to release his lover, to straddle his
hips and take that all that hardness and heat into his own body. To
ride the storm of his passion and meet it with his own.
It didn't last. It never did. But one day soon, Kowalski knew, the
impulse would become too strong to be denied. And even that thought
didn't bother him any more. It wouldn't be tonight; another impulse,
just as strong, just as impossible only a few weeks ago, was building
and he wasn't going to resist this one.
He slid away from his lover, and Turnbull watched him go without a murmur.
His trembling fingers made everything difficult, but in the end he managed
it and turned back, the lube warming, a viscous puddle, in his palm.
Turnbull was ready for him, long legs drawn up, his cock lying arrow
straight across his belly.
Even the clammy feel of the condom couldn't detract from this feeling
that he had whenever he was inside his lover. He wondered if Turnbull
felt it too. When he looked into the blazing blue eyes, he had no doubt
of it. Kowalski began to thrust fiercely, claiming his lover. Possessing
him. And
Turnbull was an eager accomplice to his own possession.
The thought startled him, breaking his concentration and his rhythm.
"Ray?" Turnbull's voice was cracked and unsteady. "Is
something wrong?"
"I can't do this." He realised it was true as he said it.
He pulled back, withdrawing his suddenly wilted cock from Turnbull's
body. "I just can't…"
He couldn't face the shocked look on his lover's face, and turned away,
swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He leaned his elbows on
his knees and dropped his head into his hands.
"Ray?" The soft Canadian voice was close behind him. Hands
gripped his shoulders gently.
Kowalski pulled away. "I'm sorry…" he wanted to tell
Turnbull to leave, but that was hardly fair. "I'll sleep on the
couch, OK?"
The hands came back, and refused to release him when he tried to move.
"You're shaking Ray. Tell me what's wrong."
Words wouldn't come, and Kowalski shrugged helplessly. A moment later
he was enveloped in a firm embrace and pulled back down onto the bed.
He'd never been so aware of the difference in their sizes. It was impossible
to move… he could have got free, he supposed, but only by hurting
the other man,
and he wasn't prepared to do that.
He lay, trapped, and listened distantly to Turnbull telling him some
long pointless story. Probably one he'd learnt off Fraser… oh
God, Fraser… Fraser and Vecchio… and them being apart…
and Fraser in his car, crying… and him, missing Stella. Missing
her less and less every day he spent with his own personal Canadian,
but not being quite ready to let her go. And here was this Canadian…
wanting him, loving him… giving himself in a way he was afraid to
accept, because if he did, he'd have to give himself right back to a
crazy, hopelessly klutzy, puppy-loyal Mountie, and it would be forever.
It
would have to be forever, because neither one of them was the
kind to give up on a relationship… and how could they do it? Two
guys, being together in this country; in a society that said two guys
making it together in bed was more disgusting than two guys trying to
kill each other? It was impossible.
"It's not impossible, love." Lips brushed across the top of
his head. "Others have done it. We can do it too."
"But…" had he been saying that aloud, or was Turnbull
a mind reader? Either would have seemed a possibility right now.
One of those large hands began a gentle movement along his spine. "It's
all right, Ray. Just go to sleep."
"Are you crazy? My life's a mess. I'm in love with a man,
for God's sake! And you tell me to sleep? I can't sleep." But
he did.
*
He'd said it. He'd actually said it. OK, so he'd been so wound up,
he'd hardly known what he was saying, but he'd said it all the same.
Waking up with Turnbull in his bed, being held in his arms, the only
thing Kowalski had been able to think about was the fact that he'd actually
said he was in love
with a man. He'd thought about it so hard, it
was a miracle they'd made it to the Consulate without an accident.
And now Turnbull was sitting there, looking happy and obviously in no
hurry to get out of the car. If anybody saw them together…
"Uh… Ray?"
"Yeah, what?"
Turnbull blushed vividly. "I was just thinking…"
"Well, don't. Look where thinking's got us." Kowalski
took in the kicked-puppy look on the Mountie's face, and interrupted
his stammering apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, OK?"
"All right, Ray."
He still didn't look very happy. Kowalski tried not to sigh, and had
the feeling it showed. "What did you want to say?"
"I didn't…" Turnbull blushed again at Kowalski's irritated
look. "Or, at least… perhaps now isn't a good…"
"Look. You just gotta stand up to me, OK? You got rights. Just
tell me."
Somehow Turnbull faded out, and it was the Mountie who straightened his
lanyard and cleared his throat commandingly. "I thought that you
might start calling me Renny." The Mountie wilted slightly under
Kowalski's bemused stare, and Turnbull surfaced again. He swallowed
and struggled on, rather
defensively. "It's my name."
"Renny." Kowalski considered it while his lover watched him
anxiously. "OK, sure."
A relieved smile crossed Turnbull's face. "Well… I'd better
go in now…"
"Hang on a minute." Kowalski made a grab for the leather strap
and pulled him back. He cupped his lover's face in his hands and kissed
him soundly, not caring if any one saw them. "So what are you doing
tonight, Renny?"