For those who groove on Turnbull...and who are open-mined:

See, this is what happens when you have a certain box, but you discover that it expands. This started out in response to something Amy B. wrote in one of her stories, then I finally finished reading all of Hamlette's lush little opus, and I understood that I loved Turnbull more than I realized.

Disclaimers: On this whole 'Alliance owns them' thing, all I have to say is this -- it's just important that *Alliance* believes that.
Pairings: the title.
Synopsis: Time-wise, this happens after the events in Asylum. Ray goes to the Consulate. Chief Cat Thatcher is away and he finds a pair of Mountie mice......
Archiving: Hexwood; anywhere else, please ask first

NC-17 for m/m interaction (of a sort) and some off-color language; not betaed so, all mistakes are mine. Feedback muchly wanted and greedily slurped at

For Amy B., Kasha and Te

by LaT

Renfield Turnbull opened the door of the Canadian Consulate to the smiling face of Ray Kowalski. He smiled back.

"Detective Vecchio. Welcome back to Canada."

"Turnbull. What's shakin'?" Ray's eyes swept the foyer and main hallway as he stepped inside.

"Nothing that I am aware of, Detective. The Consulate's structural integrity is quite sound." Turnbull was still smiling, his handsome face open and cheerful.

Ray stifled the smart-ass remark he started to make. As much as he loved to occasionally pull Renfield's chain, Turnbull wasn't the Mountie he came to play with. Although it *was* awfully easy to get Turnbull flustered. Maybe later.

"Where's Fraser?"

"He is the main conference room, filling out today's 1039B report."

"And the Ice Queen?" It was never lost on Ray that neither Fraser nor Turnbull ever corrected him when he referred to Meg Thatcher as the Ice Queen.

"She's gone for the rest of the day."

"'s just the two of you, then?" Ray's smile became more something Turnbull wasn't sure he needed to try and name.

"Well, yes...and now you, of course, Detective." Turnbull's eyebrows lifted slightly when Ray's smile widened.

Ray found Benton Fraser seated at the head of the conference table, signing his name to a stack of type-written reports. Benton glanced up and smiled at the other man before speaking.

"Good evening, Ray. I trust your day went well."

"It got better as soon as I saw you." Ray set his sunglasses on the table as he stood behind Benton. He leaned down and kissed the top of Fraser's head, his tongue sliding out to press through the thick hair and against the scalp.

"Ray..." Benton was interrupted by the sensation of Ray's breath on his temple, then on his cheekbone. He completely forgot what he had intended to say when the other man used his tongue to trace the outline of his ear.

"Sorry, Ben. You were saying?" Ray's face was right next to his and when Benton turned to look at the other man, their lips were only inches apart. "Lemme think, probably something like 'Ray, this is the Consulate and we couldn't possibly here' which I...don't get because I'm pretty sure you've thought about us doin' it here. I know *I* have."

Benton's normally pale skin flushed a soft, delicate pink. What Ray said was absolutely true, but that didn't make him feel any less embarrassed.

Ray straightened up. "In fact, I have this fantasy about taking you right here on this table, which has always seemed kinda fittin' to me, considerin' that I figured out that I wanted you while I was camped out here."

Benton opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when Ray's lips brushed against his own. Without breaking the kiss, Ray pulled him to his feet, which made the kissing more comfortable for both of them.

Ray slid his tongue across Benton's lips, was rewarded with their opening. They tasted each other - exploring the smooth-roughness of tongue, sampling the sharp hardness of teeth. Benton tangled his fingers in the blond silk of Ray's hair, raking them through the spiky softness. Today, Ray tasted tangy and spicy all at once and Benton sucked the inside of his mouth avidly.

The kiss was broken briefly as Ray took in some air and the sight of Benton, lustful and hungry. He closed his eyes and dove in for another kiss. He started walking Benton backwards, the two of them moving together gracefully despite having their eyes closed. Benton backed up and up and up, until he was stopped short by something solid. Solid, but not flat. Solid, not flat, very warm, and most definitely *not* the wall. Something where the wall should have been.

Ray laughed into his mouth and Benton shuddered at the vibration, and at the sensation that whatever he'd backed into was enveloping him. Moving, wrapping around, caressing. But Ray was still kissing him, so it most decidedly was not Ray. There was only one other person at the Consulate.

Turnbull had been startled enough when he stepped into the conference room to find Ray kissing Constable Fraser. He...should have left. Said something. Made his presence known. Instead, he stood there. Transfixed. He was startled some more when Ray looked right at him...and kept on kissing Constable Fraser. But he was wholly and utterly unprepared to find himself pinned between the wall and his superior officer, held in place by his superior officer's unofficial partner.

The sensible reaction, the one he *should* have had, left him completely. Instead of extricating himself, he froze for the amount of time it took him to realize that Benton Fraser was pressed against him from head-to-toe, which was roughly 10 seconds. At that point, reason, logic and common fucking sense failed. Instinct took over.

Renfield slid his hands around to the front of Constable Fraser's body, pulled the other man even closer, and was somewhat stunned to find there actually was some space between them. As Ray was being entirely selfish with the Constable's mouth, Renfield settled for Benton's -- and at this point and under the circumstances, a first name acquaintance seemed entirely appropriate - cheek, taking a long, slow stroke with his tongue across the warm skin. His right hand snaked through Benton's hair, gently holding his head in place where it rested against Renfield's shoulder. Renfield took another generous lick, smiled when he felt Fraser's hand on his thigh. Emboldened, he used his other hand to reach for Ray's head, pulling the two of them apart and angling for Benton's mouth before Ray could protest.

Kowalski chuckled. He occupied himself with the perfectly exposed line of Fraser's jaw, felt someone's hand at the small of his back, beneath his jacket. He licked the jaw line and the fingers on his back flexed a little. Fraser.

Flawlessly sandwiched and being marvelously kissed and licked, Benton kneaded Ray's lower back with one hand while massaging Turnbull's thigh with the other. His head rested perfectly on Renfield's shoulder, the difference in their heights revealing itself a wondrous blessing. Turnbull tasted nothing like Ray, but he tasted very, very good. Minty, creamy and something else that was probably just Renfield. Benton moaned and Turnbull swallowed it whole.

"My turn," said Ray before breaking the Mounties apart by pulling on Turnbull's head as Turnbull had done to him. He could kill two birds with one lanyard by kissing Turnbull because he'd have to press even closer to Fraser to do it. As Ray slipped his tongue into Renfield's mouth, Benton watched, fascinated and aroused, taking the reprieve to catch his breath before another onslaught.

Ray started rocking his hips against Fraser while he kissed Turnbull, and Benton began rocking back into Renfield. Turnbull was reminded then, that it was Fraser between them and he broke the kiss with Ray to get to Benton's mouth again. Ray, however, had the same idea and he moved a little faster. To console himself with the temporary loss, Renfield started moving his hips in counterpoint to the rhythmic pulse of Fraser against him. He felt himself harden, wondered if Benton could tell, wondered if Benton was, too. He took his hand out of Fraser's hair, slid it between Benton and Ray, and under the tunic that was twin to his own. Whether it was because of him, because of Ray or because of both of them, it made no difference. Fraser was gloriously hard.

So was Ray, and he pressed himself against the unexpected hand. He opened his eyes while still kissing Benton. Renfield's eyes met his and he felt a hand working the fly on his jeans. He also felt himself get even harder, confronted, as he was, with the sight of *both* of them so close together. How Thatcher concentrated on her work was beyond him.

He broke the kiss with Benton when long, warm fingers started playing with his cock. He wasn't sure which of them was doing it, but God, it felt good. Renfield took advantage of Ray's momentary stupor to reclaim Benton's mouth, was rewarded for his efforts with a hot, wet, stunningly powerful tongue. He shivered.

Benton brought his hand from Turnbull's thigh, slid it behind himself and started working with the button and zipper of Renfield's riding pants, silently congratulating himself on his dexterity. At the same time he reached inside to find the thick, rock-solid cock, someone else's hand - Ray's - was doing its own walking tour of *his* stiff, swollen penis, sliding it free of two layers of clothes.

It amazed Ray that through the rapidly approaching sensory overload, he'd managed to discern that it was Turnbull playing with his cock while he stroked Fraser, and, judging by the extremely happy look on Turnbull's face, Fraser had a handful of him. He couldn't stop himself from commenting.

"'s who comes first, huh?"

"Wasn't that an Abbott and Costello routine?" Renfield asked, truly surprised his voice sounded even half-way normal as the graceful hand between his legs sped up slightly.

"Probably not in this universe, Turnbull. In some Twilight Zone-meets-the Playboy mansion universe, but..." Ray paused because as the grip around his cock tightened.

"Okay, you both need to shut the hell up," said Benton, clearly in no mood to have the intensely obscene pleasure he was experiencing interrupted by an impromptu comedy routine.

Ray did some grip-tightening-on-hot-cock of his own, liking the grunt it pulled from the Mountie closest to him. "Oh, listen to Mr. Smarty-Pants in the Middle. You are not the boss of me." He stroked a little faster for emphasis.

Benton smiled wickedly. "No, but I *am* the boss of him...and if I ordered him to stop what's he's doing, that's precisely what he'd have to do." He rocked harder into Ray's hand for emphasis.

Renfield couldn't resist the opportunity to try and stop the impending war of willful personalities. He snaked his tongue from the top of Benton's cheekbone to his temple. "But you aren't going to give such a spiteful order now, are you, Sir?" Another sweet lap of tongue for emphasis. Benton let out a low, contented moan.

"Didn't think so," said Ray, winking at Renfield. Silence ruled for several more minutes, nothing but soft grunts, groans and moans echoing off the conference room walls. They stroked in surprising rhythm with each other, Ray setting the speed on Benton, who matched with his grip on Renfield, who in turn, gifted Kowalski with his own tempo. The quickening of Turnbull's breathing cued all of them that if they were playing 'who comes first' he was going to win. Benton couldn't help but smile as he felt the tell-tale tightening and furious humping against his hand.

"Oh, *God*..." was all Renfield said as he came all over Fraser's expert fingers. The grip he had on Ray became less certain and less rhythmic but Ray's more selfish instincts took over and he ferociously pumped into Turnbull's hand until he let loose his own warm, sticky rush.

"Uh...*fuck*," he managed, leaning into Benton more to support himself than anything else.

Clever and still-thinking despite the fact that he was certain he'd lost his mind, Benton brought his clean hand up to brace himself by reaching around and holding on to the back of Renfield's neck. He fucked madly into Ray's still-clenched fist, and felt the tickling of his release start somewhere in the vicinity of his toes and rapidly move upward from there. Normally the most articulate of the three of them, he simply growled, loud enough to send the sound dancing off every wall on the first floor, as he came, the orgasm rocketing through him.

It startled him awake. In his sleep, he'd gotten half out of his long-johns somehow. His long, strong fingers were wrapped around his jerking, spurting cock. Instinctively, he inhaled, hoping that he'd actually detect their scents. He smelled nothing but his own arousal and release. His eyes swept the surroundings even as his hand slowed its furious movement.

Benton laid back on the cot. His hand was still, his stomach slick with semen and sweat. He absently brought his index and middle fingers to his mouth, lazily sucking them clean as he waited for his heart to slow down to something approximating a normal beat. He was alone in his room at the Consulate. No Ray and no Turnbull. That knowledge left him feeling oddly...bereft. When he trusted himself to stand, he made his way to the bathroom to clean up. A smile curved his lips as he found himself hoping that when he went back to sleep, the dream would return.



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